


Futurus (-a -um)

by cadesama



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mood Whiplash, Multi, OT3, Time Travel Fix-It, disregard for eu canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadesama/pseuds/cadesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cracked hyperdrive? No problem. Just hold it together with the Force. Time travel? Well. That could be a bigger problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ahsoka's head rang with pain. She turned her face into the soft cushioning she rested on, groaning aloud. Even her montrals hurt.

"Ahsoka?"

She blinked, wondering why the deck of the Resolute was so comfortable, and pulled herself upright shakily. There was a hand outstretched before her and she struggled to focus on it.

"Master?" she asked blearily. Her vision sharpened: Obi-Wan, looking similarly pained and out of sorts, and Padme with her hand extended. She latched onto Padme, letting the woman heave her upright and leaning heavily on her as she tried to keep her balance. "What happened?"

"Another of Anakin's brilliant plans, I fear," Obi-Wan said.

Padme cast him a look and he shrugged apologetically. If the churning nausea in Ahsoka's gut was anything to go off of, he probably felt twice as bad as he looked, and he honestly looked terrible. For once, it seemed he was the snippy one.

"Grievous," Padme explained. Ahsoka vaguely remembered that. There'd been a battle, going well for the most part, until Grievous unexpectedly jumped in. "He got a lucky hit on the Resolute. Cracked our hyperdrive."

"So how did we … "Ahsoka trailed off, eyes widening as she remembered. "He didn't!"

Even Padme looked rueful.

"He did. Somehow."

"I will have to ask him precisely what Force technique that was," Obi-Wan said. "After I get through killing him. Force, this headache alone."

"Me too, Master. But he's probably got it even worse, don't you think?"

Whatever Anakin had done to keep the Resolute's hyperdrive intact through their jump had warped the Force around them. Ahsoka remembered the Force sliding out of her grasp before she suddenly felt like she was being torn asunder herself. As bad as that felt for her and Obi-Wan, she could only imagine how the Chosen One felt.

"Indeed. Perhaps that will be punishment enough," Obi-Wan said. He sounded doubtful.

"Where is he?" Ahsoka asked. She frowned, peering around at the room they were in. They definitely weren't on the Resolute, though it didn't seem like they had been captured either. Grievous didn't ever give them furniture this nice. "Where are we?"

Cautiously, she tried to reach out to touch the Force to figure things out, only to double over in pain.

It was there – it was just wrong, incomplete, quiet and strange and awful. She felt dizzy again and pressed her face into Padme's arm until she recovered.

Obi-Wan stepped over to them, hand gentle on her shoulder. Ahsoka looked up at him in surprise; in lieu of the Force, though, touch was all they had.

"We shall have to be patient to learn that, young one," he said. "I do not believe we are in any danger, however."

"But what about Master Anakin? Why isn't he here with us?"

"I don't know," Padme replied tightly. "But I agree with Obi-Wan."

Ahsoka exhaled, trying to steady herself without the Force.

"If you would sit, I may be able to explain," said a familiar voice. Ahsoka turned in surprise; she'd been so focused on herself that she hadn't heard the door. Obi-Wan displayed similar discomfort and stepped back cautiously from the woman in the doorway.

Padme's hand went to her mouth.

"Mon?" she asked.

Senator Mon Mothma stepped through the doorway, followed by a young, dark haired woman who Ahsoka couldn't quite place, though she almost felt like she'd seen her before.

"It is good to see you, Padme," Mon Mothma said.

There were wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, her hair was completely gray. Her gestures were still graceful and she motioned for everyone to sit. They slowly gathered on the furniture, Obi-Wan on a small settee to the side while Ahsoka and Padme took the sofa. Mon Mothma sat down across from them while the younger woman stood behind her, watching them with a dark, unyielding gaze.

"Your ship is largely undamaged," Mon Mothma said. She seemed distracted, eyes locked on Padme with an intensity Ahsoka found disquieting. Padme tilted her head, curious as the attention though it did not appear to bother her. Briefly, Mon Mothma looked to Obi-Wan, telling him, "Your crew is safe with us. Few of them were affected as you Jedi were."

Obi-Wan frowned.

"But you took them from the Resolute nonetheless."

Mon dipped her head in acknowledgment but did not explain.

"Where are they?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Quartered with the members of the system defense fleet, for the moment."

"Then we are on Coruscant," Padme breathed. She gestured at their surroundings: beautiful, but stark. It didn't look at all like Coruscanti decoration to Ahsoka – but then again, she'd just woken up. Blind to the Force, she'd just have to take Padme's word. Padme turned a look on Obi-Wan. "Anakin succeeded, after all."

He rubbed a finger across his mustache.

"I would not be so sure of that, my lady."

Mon Mothma and her companion had tensed at Anakin's name, though Mon Mothma did a better job hiding it. Ahsoka glared at them both.

"So we're on Coruscant. Nice. Where's my Master?"

"Your –?" the dark haired woman started before cutting herself off. A muscle twitched in her jaw and again she looked so familiar to Ahsoka, but she just couldn't place the woman.

"Anakin Skywalker is in the medical facility," Mon Mothma said smoothly. She gave them a small smile. "I assure you, he is recuperating in good hands. In the mean time, I would like again to tell you how wonderful it is to see you. Perhaps you have other questions I could answer?"

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at the other woman, opening her mouth to ask just who the hell she was and why she wouldn't introduce herself, but Obi-Wan interrupted.

"It is wonderful to see you as well, Mon. But though you have told us where we are, I feel you have left out salient information. Such as when we are?" he asked pleasantly, though there was durasteel in his voice.

Ahsoka jolted at the words. She shot a look to Padme, who shrugged a shoulder. Mon Mothma did look significantly older than the woman Ahsoka remembered but... time travel? Seriously?

If Padme was surprised, she contained her reaction and the dark haired woman appeared to be annoyed at the idea, really, rather than doubtful.

"Judging from your uniform, Master Kenobi," Mon Mothma said, calmly. "You are twenty five years into the future."

* * *

 

It wasn't the first time Anakin had woken chained to a bed. But at least in Padme's apartment, he knew where she kept the keys to the handcuffs.

He cracked his eyes open slowly, surveying his surroundings carefully. The Force was implacably distant – present but somehow beyond his reach. He didn't like that thought at all, but he'd deal with it later, when every single one of his cells wasn't screaming in pain. For the moment, he took in the spare white walls of what was obviously a med bay, the machinery and droids that hummed around him, and the guard standing at attention, blaster aimed straight at him.

"At ease, soldier," Anakin said hoarsely. His mouth was dry and he grimaced at the sound of his own voice.

The guard did not lower his weapon.

Separatists, then. He hadn't figured on the Republic locking him up, but for some reason he'd thought he was in Republic territory. His last thought before blacking out had been that he wanted to guide the Resolute home.

"Take a breather," Anakin advised the guard. He rattled the cuff against the bed railing and the man somehow tensed further. He raised his eyebrows at the guard, nonplussed. "I don't know what you think I'm going to do, but I'm a little tied up at the moment."

If anything, the joke just seemed to disconcert the guard more. Anakin sighed, throwing his head back into his stiff, military issue pillow. He tried not to groan, pain surging back after even such a small expenditure of energy.

But he really wasn't to get anywhere if he just gave up. So the guard wasn't a gateway out of here. Anakin had other tricks up his sleeve. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the pain as he reached for the Force. It was an odd and terrible experience. He'd never had to seek the Force. It was always there with him, whispering and beckoning. He felt dizzy, a flush rising on his cheeks with the effort as he cast about.

There. The Force was there, rippling in the distance. Fierfek, it'd never been this difficult before, but all at once, it suddenly came back to him. Not in a rush as he expected, but a cautious trickle.

Anakin gasped, eyes flying open. He could feel again and it really wasn't helping matters at all. The Force, somehow, seemed as confused as he was. Nothing felt right.

The guard had come closer, blaster barrel aimed directly into Anakin's face.

"I know about your tricks," the guard snarled. His hands were trembling on the blaster. "Don't even think it."

Anakin smirked at him despite the sick feeling coiling inside him. He narrowed his eyes, finger twitching as he slapped the blaster out of the guard's hands.

"That's all I have to do," he said.

Next he pushed the guard to the wall, holding him there with the Force as he turned his attention to the cuff. It was a simple enough device, though the design wasn't familiar. Seppies and their toys, he thought sardonically, cracking the lock apart rather than bothering to pick it. The energy tether faded and Anakin swung his legs down from the bed, rubbing at his wrist with his prosthetic hand. A thread of fear quivered across the Force to Anakin and he looked up to see stark terror in the eyes of the guard.

"Are you going to tell me where I am?" Anakin asked.

He glanced away from the guard, looking for anywhere the Seppies might have stashed his lightsaber. Or his boots. When he looked back, he was surprised to see that the guard had fainted dead away. Anakin shook out his hand, wondering if he'd pressed that hard in the Force, but frankly, he was barely managing to do anything in the Force, let alone a choke hold. Gently, he lowered the guard down. Walking over cautiously, he felt for the man's pulse, finding it steady but slow.

Anakin snorted to himself.

"I guess this is why they use droids."

It would have been useful if the man had stayed awake long enough to tell Anakin where Padme, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka were, but Anakin felt the Force returning slowly but surely. He'd be able to find them. He eyed the guard's blaster ruefully before taking it up. It was better than nothing, he supposed. 

* * *

 

Leia glared at the assembled group. Arguments had been heated between the Chief of State and the New Republic Navy High Command over what to do with the ship that had suddenly appeared in system, well past the first barrier of Coruscant's internal defense grid, nearly a full solar day ago. High Command had wanted to blast it out of the sky, but Mon stayed their hand. And, despite the possible repercussions for Leia's own existence, she still sided with High Command.

He was here. In the building. Leia battened down her Force presence, just as Luke had taught her, pulling it in around her as closely as she could until it felt like a second skin. She couldn't bear him seeking her out the way he once had Luke – didn't matter that he was younger, that he'd barely known she was his daughter before he died. She wasn't risking it.

The other Jedi hadn't noticed yet, so she seemed to be doing something right.

Mon Mothma wasn't lying about the Resolute's crew. The non-clones were currently quartered, with supervision, at Naval headquarters. The clones were on lock down within the ship itself, impounded in high orbit.

Vader, despite Leia's protests, was in the Palace infirmary. Force, she was glad Luke was off planet. She did not relish explaining the situation to him, let alone restraining him from visiting their young, time traveling father.

Of course, she thought with a pang, it wasn't fair that she was meeting their mother before he did. She settled her gaze on the woman, Senator Padme Amidala as Mon Mothma had introduced her.

When Mon spoke, it had been of an old friend, one of the founders of the Rebellion. She had not said that Amidala was Leia's mother. Leia had only realized that herself when she stepped into this room, feeling how vibrant Amidala was in the Force, echoing Luke though she lacked his power. Leia swallowed deeply as Amidala caught her gaze, curiosity tempered by shrewd distrust.

She, like the girl, still wanted to know where Vader was.

"Mon," Amidala said after a moment, cutting off speculation between the Chief of State and General Kenobi about precisely how the time travel may have occurred. She was still looking at Leia. "Even if we do believe you – and we have been caught in a fair number of Separatist traps, so please forgive my skepticism – why are you holding us separately?"

"The longer we are here, the more I feel that this must be the future," Kenobi said quietly. "There is something off about the Force here."

The Togruta girl nodded vigorous and then hissed in pain, bringing a hand to her head.

"Yeah, I agree with Master Obi-Wan. It seems like it should be impossible, but it somehow feels right."

Mon smiled graciously at them, but Amidala's gaze did not waver.

It was still up for debate how much they were going to tell the group. It seemed injudicious at best to just lay the truth on them. Mon Mothma herself had advocated putting them into a windowless room; to see Coruscant's skyline, the wreckage of the Temple, wouldn't at all calm the situation.

"He was hurt. More than the other Jedi," Leia said, feeling as if the words were wrenched from her. Amidala looked distressed, but smoothed her expression into polite concern. The idea that her mother was upset for that monster made Leia suddenly furious and she couldn't help but add, "And he's been known to be violent, so we took precautions for that as well."

If she expected anyone to protest, she was disappointed. Instead, Kenobi merely sighed while the Togruta girl looked mildly embarrassed – and a bit insulted. If she really was Vader's apprentice, then it made sense that she would be annoyed that she did not yet have the reputation her master did.

Amidala, however, did not look impressed.

"I have also been known to be violent," she said softly, dark eyes glittering with a look Leia recognized from herself. "I would like to see him."

Leia made a frustrated sound.

"Later."

"If you wish to parlay with us, it will be now."

Mon Mothma let out a light chuff of laughter.

"Oh, Padme, how I have missed you," she said. She reached out her hands to clasp Amidala's, and the hard lines of Amidala's face softened some. She was still plainly suspicious that this was a plot of some sort, but Mon Mothma's presence alone was doing much to allay those concerns.

And it was into that moment of assurance that Anakin Skywalker burst.

Leia sensed him only a moment before he blew open the door, blaster held lightly by his fingertips, as if with disgust. He ducked into the room, putting his back to the wall and peered out the smoldering door before turning his attention to the group. He had a wide, fierce grin on his face, Jedi uniform still intact and restraints completely gone. He was, however, still bare foot. So at least we managed that, Leia thought, rolling her eyes. She'd petitioned for more security, but Mon Mothma reminded her that given the time he came from, he shouldn't have been a threat yet at all.

"I –" he cut himself off, staring at them. He gestured with the blaster, expression disgruntled. "I'm rescuing you! You could at least stand up for it."

Amidala was the only one who stood. She held her hand out to Vader and he placed the blaster into it happily. He looked over to the other Jedi, eyes flicking down to their belts.

"Wait, why do you still have your lightsabers? Why was I the only one chained up?"

Amidala hefted the blaster. Kenobi went to stand by her side, arms crossed, while the girl fingered one of the lightsabers on her belt.

"Just what I was asking," Amidala said sweetly. "And I still don't feel the answer was adequate."

"However, I do not believe we are in any danger," Kenobi added. He gave Vader a sidelong glance. "So you can stop dancing around like an impatient bantha."

"I'm not – Are you calling me fat?"

"Anakin," Kenobi said warningly.

"I just think," Vader said, "we should get going. This is a rescue, after all."

The time travelers turned as one to look at him, horror dawning on their faces.

"What did you do?"

Leia dropped her hands to her side, running to the comm panel near the still smoking wreckage of the door. She could feel Vader next to her, taking a threatening step closer.

"Status report!" she snapped.

"Everything is fine, Princess," a tech assured her.

Leia glared at Vader.

"What did you do?" she snapped, echoing the others.

He scratched at the back of his neck, pulling a face.

"Hey, when I wake up imprisoned, I generally assume I need to escape. It's just good sense. And if you wanted to be diplomatic, maybe you shouldn't have put so many armed guards in between me and my friends." A series of small explosions went off in the hall and Vader added, "And you should look into blasters that don't overload so easily."

Leia let out a growl of frustration, Force pushing Vader to sit and stay the hell out of things just as the tech called back, panic lacing his voice.

Lightsaber blades snapped on in front of her and she found herself facing down the barrel of Amidala's blaster. And behind Amidala, she could see Vader, his blue eyes so like Luke's, looking at her in surprise and recognition.


	2. Chapter 2

Anakin leaned heavily back on the sofa, no longer reeling from the Force push – though, he had to admit, if his daughter hadn't flung him down he might have just fallen over on his own. Tapping the Force had worsened things rather than making them better. He found himself staring wordlessly at the young woman, startlingly bright in the Force, even through the muddled mess of headaches and exhaustion plaguing him, she was beautiful and furious.

She looks like Mom, Anakin thought. He could see Padme as well, there was no doubt of that, but the lines of her face reminded him of no one so much as his own mother.

The angry snarl on her mouth, though, that was all him. Anakin smiled dopily into his hand, covering it was well as he could. He knew where she'd gotten her temper.

A number of guard clattered down the hallway, breaking the tense stand off. They formed up behind the girl and she crossed her arms, still looking down the barrel of Padme's blaster. Anakin's eyes flicked to his wife, hoping she wouldn't do anything rash – that was his job and he'd already done it admirably well – as he wondered exactly how to mention that Padme was in a stand off with her own daughter. It would be awkward to bring that up in front of Obi-Wan.

"Put your weapons down," one the guards snapped.

No one obeyed.

"I should like to know," Obi-Wan said with the crisp, precise anger Anakin remembered well from his apprenticeship, "how it is that you are not a Jedi, but wield the Force."

The woman's eyes reflected the light of his saber and Ahsoka's. She lifted her chin defiantly.

"My brother trained me."

Ahsoka scoffed, even as Anakin thrilled at the words.

"Standards are falling all over. What kind of future did you take us to, Skyguy?"

"That is something we will discuss in some depth, I think," Mon Mothma said.

She remained seated, tone measured as she ignored the drawn weapons mere paces from her. Anakin reassessed her. He'd never thought much of Padme's allies in the Senate. Most were unrealistic ideologues without the wherewithal or power to actually accomplish anything. But Mon seemed to be cut more from Padme's cloth, made of sterner stuff than the others.

"The question remains," Padme said. "Who are you? Why did you separate us, treat us differently, when it's plain that you know who we are?"

"It's a good question. I apologize for," Anakin gestured vaguely, "you know."

"Breaking out of the med bay, setting off nine explosions, and doing Force only knows what to the guards you took those blasters off of?" his daughter snapped.

Anakin's smile faded under her gaze. He was impressed that she'd counted exactly how many explosions – he'd time them in quick succession to maximize their concussive force – but disturbed at how angry she seemed to be at him in particular.

"They're alive, if that's what you're asking. First one fainted at the mere sight of me."

Her glare did not so much as flicker.

"Understandable," she said.

Anakin lifted his chin, matching her steely gaze. He tried for a flippant tone, though it felt mechanical. Expected.

"I thought so too."

"Leia," Mon Mothma said.

That was her name. Anakin mouthed it silently, struck again by wonder. She looked to the side and sighed, gesturing for her guards to lower their weapons. It was an imperious gesture and in that she looked purely like Padme as Queen. In turn, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan closed down their lightsabers and Padme grudgingly lowered her blaster.

"To answer your first question, I am Princess Leia Organa," Leia said.

Anakin felt the bottom fall out of his stomach.

"But –" he cut himself off, eyes going to Obi-Wan as he clamped his mouth shut.

"And you were separated because we knew Anakin Skywalker as one of the most dangerous men of the galaxy."

Obi-Wan glanced over at Anakin.

"Then little enough has changed," he said. "Though I admit to feeling slighted not to be included."

Anakin, however, had noted the past tense. He didn't like that part.

Leia's mouth tightened.

"He was also," she pronounced, Alderaani accent coming through. Anakin narrowed his eyes at her. That was deliberate. "A traitor to the Jedi and the Republic and a Sith Lord.

"So we assumed we'd rather talk to the rest of you first," she concluded.

* * *

"No," Padme whispered. She lifted her blaster once more, aiming shakily at the girl claiming to be Bail's daughter. "Now I know you're lying. This is ridiculous, even for Separatists."

None of the Jedi spoke up and she glanced to the side. Obi-Wan had gone pale and Ahsoka's eyes were wide with shock. They weren't protesting – and neither was Anakin.

She found him suddenly by her side, his hand on her blaster, pushing it down. Padme looked up at him, wishing for nothing so much as his arms around her, but there were too many people present.

"It's not," he stopped, biting his lip. He frowned, looking at Leia, before looking back at Padme. He seemed to ground himself, confusion giving way to determination. "We're definitely in the future, Senator. The rest... we'll figure out."

Padme let out an uneasy breath.

"Of course. General."

She allowed him to guide her back to sit, his large hand light on the small of her back. She looked cautiously to Obi-Wan, but his attention was thankfully still fixed on the Alderaanian princess. Supposed Alderaanian princess.

"I don't believe you," Obi-Wan said after a long pause.

"I don't either. Master Anakin would never –"

"Actually, I probably would," Anakin interrupted them wearily, drawing all eyes to him. He smiled humorlessly. "Come on, you know it. Some Chosen One, right?"

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan said in exasperation. A thin veneer over his own fear.

"Master, don't talk that way," Ahsoka protested. "You'd never turn. You're gonna fulfill the prophecy just like the Father said on Mortis."

The Princess frowned.

"Chosen One?"

Padme sat forward, palms on her knees. She hadn't heard the story of Mortis either; if it had to do with his status as Chosen One, it was no surprise. Anakin was ambivalent about the title. In all his ramblings about the Order and how they treated him, fairly or unfairly, he rarely spoke of it.

Obi-Wan's eyes trailed over Leia, leaving Anakin behind for the moment.  
"The Order believes Anakin to be the Chosen One, he who will bring balance to the Force."

The laugh the Princess gave was quite ugly.

"I take it you had not heard that before. Interesting."

"That's one word for it," the Princess said. She folded her arms across her chest, hip cocked.

"So I reject my destiny," Anakin concluded. He sounded speculative, less disturbed than he should have been.

Padme shot him a quelling look. She wasn't entirely clear on Jedi theology. Her time with Anakin tended to be spent in ways alternatively much more pleasurable, or far less, than comparative religious discussions tended to be. She was aware, however, that what they taught differed distinctly from Naboo's traditions.

"You can't reject destiny, Anakin," she said tightly. "It's destined or it's not."

He sat back, obstinate set to his mouth.

"Then I suppose I'm destined to turn. No one ever said balance was a good thing."

Both Ahsoka and Obi-Wan looked like they wanted to hit him; Padme agreed with the sentiment.

"We will meditate on the nature of balance later, Anakin," Obi-Wan said sternly.

In the years since Anakin had been knighted, Obi-Wan had rarely sounded so much like a forbidding Jedi Master. Thankfully, Anakin responded to the tone, apologetic expression crossing his face. He accepted the obvious punishment for what it was – briefly, before raising his eyebrows at Obi-Wan.

"Uncalled for."

"You will meditate or so help me..."

Anakin smiled faintly at Obi-Wan's outrage, happy to have provoked a normal reaction from him. Obi-Wan returned the expression, though it faded so quickly that Padme almost missed it.

"All Jedi face temptation. In the right circumstances, any could fall," Obi-Wan added after a beat. There was a desperate undertone to his voice. He was making excuses. It was unsettlingly uncharacteristic – yet Padme found herself wanting very much to believe him. Any Jedi could fall.

Anakin snorted and threw a lopsided smile at him.

"Not you."

"Hey!" Ahsoka said indignantly. She crossed her arms, face caught between a pout and a glare, for all that she didn't seem truly offended.

Padme felt Anakin shrug one shoulder against her.

"What can I say, Snips, you take after me."

Padme closed her eyes, hand on her cheek. He was joking about this.

Eventually Obi-Wan and Ahsoka returned to the sitting area, Ahsoka sitting on Padme's other side. She let her hand fall back to her side, feeling brittle inside, but Ahsoka's hand found its way into hers. Padme squeezed it tightly, feeling Ahsoka cling as hard as she did. Obi-Wan stood, arms crossed and expression cleared of all emotion. Mon Mothma watched them with concern. In that time, Leia's gaze had not faltered once, fixed on Anakin.

"Well," Mon Mothma said. She cocked an eyebrow at Leia. "I suppose that eliminates the need for further deliberation about what we will tell our time travelers, since you have covered one of the most important points and alluded to the other."

Leia apparently felt no regret at all about that.

"To no apparent effect," she replied.

Padme bristled at the words. The suggestion that Anakin would turn – that he would become a traitor – definitely had an effect. Anakin could pretend he didn't care or didn't believe, but she knew him well enough to know that he would wake tonight, sweating and anxious, plagued by the nightmares caused by this callous girl.

"And the other point?" Obi-Wan questioned. His tone was mild, but his gaze was clear and intent.

Mon Mothma sighed, pressing her hands flat on her knees.

"That in a few short years, your Republic will fall and the Jedi will fall with it."

"The Jedi?" Anakin asked blankly. "All of them?"

* * *

"Yes, all of them," Leia snapped. "Except the ones you had to hunt down later."

He wasn't appalled – he wasn't angry, he wasn't arguing. He wasn't reacting at all. Vader merely watched, silent and still, as Leia stalked forward, growl deep in her throat.

Leia leaned down, putting her face at his level. She placed her hands on his shoulders to hold him in place and ignored the warmth of his presence, the quiet sound of his breathing.

"You killed them." She nodded to Kenobi and to the Togruta girl. "And more. The only Jedi left in the entire galaxy is my brother – and don't worry, you tried to kill him too."

That hit landed. He flinched at the words, eyes going wide. Leia smiled at him. He was fully aware of who she was to him, it showed in his hurt and surprise at her name, and yet for some reason he hadn't mentioned it to the others. The secret was a weakness to exploit.

"I – I would never..." he whispered.

But he'd already admitted he would.

Vader looked at a loss, his expression vulnerable and open. He looked entirely too much like Luke in that moment. It just enraged Leia further.

"You are a creature of nightmares," she told him. "Everything you are, everything you have done, is nothing in comparison to the crimes of Darth Vader. Children still scream at the sight."

"But I'm dead, right?" he asked. He sat forward, one hand – the mechanical one, she noted with disgust – coming up to clutch at her wrist. "It's over. I'm dead. I can't hurt anyone anymore."

Leia couldn't even say that was true. She flicked her eyes to where he held her, silent until he relented. Slowly, disquiet on his face, he disengaged. His hand dropped to his side – without a word, Amidala slipped hers into it.

"You are dead," Leia eventually said. She left it there, unwilling to give him any context, any meaning. She didn't want him to draw comfort from a single word she spoke.

"I must say, I am beginning to doubt your parentage." Leia startled, looking to Kenobi. His expression was contemplative, hand stroking his beard as he examined her. He did not probe in the Force – it was oddly quiet for all the time travelers but Vader – and Leia was thankful for that. She had hardly enjoyed mind probes the first time around. But his interest was raking, eyes sharp. He continued evenly, "It is difficult to believe Bail would raise such a cruel child."

Leia recoiled from the words, heat rising on her cheeks – embarrassment, followed by anger. She flung out a hand, pointing at Vader.

"He killed you!"

Obi-Wan appeared unimpressed.

"He has done no such thing. And, Force willing, shall not in the future."

There was little Leia could say to that. Her jaw worked as she tried to rein herself back in. She thought to Luke's calming exercises. The Force was clear and present, comforting and warming. She let it ease her mind, and exhaled a long breath. Her stomach was still knotted, she felt the tight line of her back, knew it would ache later in bed, but she felt in control once more.

She was Bail's daughter, first and foremost. A princess and a diplomat. She'd faced Vader on numerous occasions in the Senate without incident. This would be no different.

Leia nodded coolly to Kenobi.

"I apologize for my words."

He inclined his head in acceptance, even as Vader shook his own, ready to protest. Leia felt a twist of anguish at the sight. Of all them, why did he have to be the one who agreed with her?

"I see that there is much we need to learn about this future," Senator Amidala said. Her hands were linked with the Togruta girl on one side, Vader on the other. The tie binding them together. Her eyes were hard, even as her face remained ashen. "If we are to prevent it."

Leia shared a look with Mon Mothma.

"We are not yet sure if that is advisable," Mon Mothma said smoothly.

The Togruta girl snorted.

"Why would the Force bring us here otherwise?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"The Republic fell," Amidala said. She shook her head slightly, disbelieving that alone wasn't reason enough to change the past. "The Jedi died. Anakin..."

She glanced to the side and then away.

"We will need to contact our crew, if we are to make any plans to return to our time," Obi-Wan said decisively. "Regardless of whether you give us further information about your past – one, which, I should like to think is not our own future."

Leia shook her head.

"Absolutely not. I'm not giving Darth Vader access to a star destroyer or clone troops, and none of you have proven yourselves capable of keeping anything from him."

"Princess," the Togruta girl snapped, "from where I'm standing, you are the one who needs to earn our trust. You locked up my Master, stole our ship, and now you won't even let us talk to our crew."

"It's okay, Snips," Vader said. "I'm sure Rex and Yularen can take care of themselves."

"Sure, Master, but the point is that we haven't done anything wrong! You haven't, yet! And no matter what you may think, it's not fair to let them punish all of us for things you might do in the future."

"We shall allow you to speak with them," Mon Mothma interjected. "But I am afraid your ship must remain impounded. I think it is best if we all retire. There is much I must discuss with my advisers and I feel this discussion has already become fraught – it will only become moreso if we decide to aid you in altering your future."

Amidala managed a thin smile for her friend.

Mon Mothma raised a hand, signaling to one of the guards, who stepped forward.

"Find my aide and tell him to prepare rooms for our guests," she said.

The group stood, high emotion as much as as their odd Force-blindness making them unsteady. Amidala and Vader's apprentice supported each other, while Vader and Obi-Wan tried to manage on their own. Leia waved for another of the guards to accompany them out – it wouldn't take much to prepare a suite of rooms. Merely a matter of keying the locks properly. They'd be ready by the time the group arrived.

Vader hung back at they filed out, walking carefully to Leia.

She looked up at him, all the imposing height that he, for once, was not using to intimidate. He looked down uncertainly before nodding to himself, making a snap decision.

"I know you hate me," he said quietly. "And I seem to deserve it."

"But?"

He reached out carefully and Leia controlled her response, holding herself perfectly still as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

"But I want you to know that I'm proud of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doooooing.


	3. Chapter 3

"He said he was proud of me," Leia repeated. Her anger, it seemed had finally tired her out, halting her in the track she'd paced into the sitting room carpet. Now she simply stood, arms limp at her sides.

Luke watched as Han folded her into an embrace, tucking her head under her chin.

They caught her transmission calling them back to Coruscant during one of the recalculation points where they re-entered realspace. It hadn't done much to speed them on their way, but it had offered a startling ray of excitement and hope after weeks of disappointment, searching Dathomir for information about the Jedi.

Of course, Luke had to laugh at the fact that the moment he stepped off Coruscant, Ben and his parents – both of them! – just popped out of a hyperspace vortex, but his life did tend toward the strange. Leia, not unexpectedly, was not as pleased as he was, and he did his best to restrain the giddiness threatening to overtake him.

There were a million hurts that she had every right to still be angry about, that he had no right to ask her to forgive Vader for.

"Why?" she asked quietly. "What have I done that he'd be proud of?"

"Well, sweetheart, it sounds like you were pretty mad at him. So there's that."

Leia scowled into his chest. But it was a fair point, Luke thought.

"You said he knew?" Luke asked.

She pulled away from Han to give him a dark look.

"Yes. All those years in the Senate and he never once figured it out."

"He didn't know at the end, either," Luke admitted. He rubbed his fingers over his chin. "He knew I had a sister, but not who. Did you... ?"

Leia sighed.

"I did. I used the Force."

Luke raised his eyebrows at her. That would be enough. He'd come across enough Force sensitives to realize that, not only did everyone have a distinct presence in the Force, but that he and Leia had a rather exceptional presence. A handful of recovered Jedi documents hinted at the idea of Force strong families bearing their own markers and characteristics – though apparently family wasn't a big thing? Luke wasn't entirely clear on that – and the Skywalkers were nothing if not both unique and Force strong. Luke could feel Anakin even now, on the other side of the palace, and luminous and warm. Familiar and strong and so unlike Vader that it was shocking.

But unmistakably a Skywalker.

"You used the Force?" Han asked. He grinned at her. "Got in a hit, didn't you?"

"I – that's not the point, Han! Besides, he deserved it."

Luke chuckled. That was undoubtedly true from the scorch marks still being scrubbed off the halls in the Palace. Thankfully, no one had been injured. He honestly had no idea who thought that chaining up Darth Vader was either advisable or nearly enough to restrain him, but now that he was around, he hoped he could calm the situation down a little.

"So what's the plan?" Han asked. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he looked between the two of them. "'Cause I gotta admit, didn't like the sight of that Star Destroyer in orbit when we jumped back in system and I bet I'm not alone there."

"Short term," Luke assured Han. "We'll find a way to send them home, back to the past."

Leia thew her hands up, obviously at a loss.

"Luke, we don't even know that we can do that – or if it's a good idea."

"But you told them," Luke said insistently. "You told them about their future. If they know, maybe they can change things."

Leia glared at him.

"Do you even realize what a risk that is? I don't know why in the Force you think you can trust them to get it right this time. None of them is what we thought."

"Then why tell them?"

"Because I'm not up to playing nice just so that Darth Vader doesn't get upset about his future crimes," Leia snapped.

Luke pressed his lips together, reining in his own temper. He didn't want to fight with Leia about their father – even though couldn't she see that it was as much about sparing their mother pain as him? But that wasn't the most important point, regardless. He just couldn't see why Anakin would be here if it wasn't by the will of the Force.

"How can you say that? Why would they be here at all if it wasn't to change things – that's not how the Force works."

"Kid," Han said. He cocked his head at Luke. "Not trying to undermine you here, since the Force isn't my thing, but it's also not how physics works. If they're here, they're not back there. And them not being around twenty five years ago means you two kinda don't exist."

"But we do," Leia picked up for him.

"Yeah. So they aren't ever getting back to the past, Luke. They're not from our past to begin with."

Luke looked between the two of them, scrunching his nose up.

"So you think they're from an alternate universe? That seems kind of far fetched."

Han stared at him until Luke winced.

"Okay, okay. I see your point. But if you two are right, why are we holding back about anything? They're here. And, frankly, the New Republic could use the advice of a genuine Jedi Master."

"And a Senator of the Republic," Leia added reluctantly.

Luke had to wonder what had passed between her and their mother. Leia had memories of her, impressions from the Force, and he had always been jealous of that connection. Yet since Luke had returned, Leia had barely spoken of her.

"You know, I'm fine with Kenobi giving Luke tips and I suppose I can even deal with Vader, as long as he's not … " Han circled his hand, presumably indicating 'torturing me and freezing me in carbonite.' "But we've got an entire ship full of Imps in lock down, not to mention the 501st. Any ideas?"

Leia sighed.

"They're not Imperials yet," Luke said thoughtfully. "If they really are here to stay, they can probably just live their lives. Maybe some of them will stand for commissions with the New Republic Navy."

"And the clones?"

"We'll figure that out in time, Han," Leia said.

Han rolled his eyes.

"Good one."

Leia narrowed her eyes at him, reaching out to smack him lightly on the arm.

* * *

 

The suite the aide led them to had three bedrooms.

Awkward, Ahsoka thought.

It wasn't that she didn't know about Anakin and Senator Amidala. They were super, super obvious at the best of times, and frankly rather embarrassing at the worst. But it was one thing to watch them pronounce titles in the exact same tones meant for endearments and another entirely to admit that, yeah, they probably would want to share that bed and, no, they wouldn't be doing much sleeping.

Ahsoka pulled a face as the image struck her. She really wasn't okay with thinking of her Master that way.

The group had managed an awkward meal and an even more awkward meditation session between Anakin and Obi-Wan, while Padme retired to one of the rooms to rest. Ahsoka poked around the suite, searching out the amenities and immediately becoming bored. It was nicer than a lot of the places she'd stayed and certainly more spacious than either her room at the Temple or her quarters on the Resolute, but it was also completely cut off.

No windows. No holonet. Barely a working comm and it immediately connected to highly suspicious security agents.

Ahsoka was almost thankful when Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Padme regrouped in the suite's common room. Except that instead of trying to figure out how they were going to get back home or rescue the Resolute's crew, they had decided to dive right back into uncomfortable questions of spiritual enlightenment – or lack thereof.

"'I probably would'?" Obi-Wan repeated in disbelief. He wasn't shouting. He had his features schooled into a Jedi Masterly expression of disapproval that most definitely didn't suit shouting, his back straight and his hands fists in his robes to prevent him from lashing out. But. He was shouting. "What is even going through your head, Anakin? Why would you say that?"

Anakin's glower was impressive, despite his sulky shrug.

"I don't know. I just – when she said that, it didn't feel like a lie. It felt familiar, somehow."

Padme's eyes flicked to him in concern.

"Ani..."

He shook his head, stalling any comfort she might give. He didn't look upset, and really that was more frightening than anything. He frowned, looking past Obi-Wan with a distant, unfocused expression.

Ahsoka bit her lip, looking down. Back in – she didn't want to call it interrogation room, even though that's what it'd felt like – with Senator Mothma and Princess Leia, she'd brought up Mortis. The Father had spoken of Anakin as the Chosen One, talked of his role in the future. She simply couldn't believe that Anakin could turn his back on it – or that his true destiny was to turn to the Dark Side.

Except that he had. On Mortis.

Ahsoka caught Obi-Wan's eye, wishing she could feel the Force, could catch whether his thoughts we running down the same path as hers.

"There may be a reason for that," Ahsoka said haltingly.

Anakin swung around to look at her in shook. Padme's lips parted in confusion, line between her eyebrows.

Ahsoka twisted her fingers together.

"On Mortis, Master..."

Obi-Wan stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her. She looked up at him and he shook his head marginally. He would take responsibility.

"Anakin, you are aware that the Father took some of your memories of our time on Mortis," Obi-Wan said. "We have not spoken of them before because I believed they did not matter – and you seemed eager enough to forget that world, regardless."

"But something happened," Anakin said slowly, with dread. He looked between the two of them. "Something I should remember."

"Why haven't I heard of Mortis before? What happened?" Padme asked.

"Mortis was a world deeply influenced by the Force, my lady," Obi-Wan explained. "Inhabited by three Force wielders of such power that they may well have been incarnations of the Force itself. The Daughter was a being of serenity, The Son of passion, and The Father of balance. He called us to Mortis."

Anakin snorted, crossing his arms.

"He wanted me to replace him. Stay there forever with his kids." He turned to Padme, adding unnecessarily, "I said no."

Padme didn't seem encouraged. She pinned Obi-Wan with a look.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about this place?"

"Our experiences were not relevant to the war. Our report was placed only with the Council, not the Senate," Obi-Wan said.

Ahsoka winced. That didn't at all explain why they didn't tell Padme, their friend, only why the Council had not passed the report on to the legislature. Ahsoka wondered if Obi-Wan was taking the 'three bedrooms' situation rather more personally than she was.

"Anyway," Ahsoka said. "The Father put Master Anakin through some tests to see if he really was the Chosen One and then things got a little out of hand. The Son turned to the Dark Side and killed his sister."

At least, that was what she thought had happened. Her own memories were a bit fuzzy.

"And then he turned Anakin to the Dark Side," Obi-Wan concluded.

Anakin dropped his arms to his sides.

"What?"

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"And The Father took your memory of that time. It honestly seemed for the best, as with Ahsoka."

Ahsoka frowned.

"As with Ahsoka what?"

"You died, Snips," Anakin said in distraction.

"I what?" she shouted.

"You died. Come on, it's not like you're dead now. I fixed it."

"And it's not like you're Dark now, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, something like triumph in his voice.

Ahsoka chanced a look at Padme. She was shaking her head, backing away from them.

"But since I'm apparently going to turn Dark in the future, it's kind of relevant," Anakin argued.

"I hardly knew that at the time!"

Behind them, the door chimed. Anakin and Obi-Wan went silent, glaring at each other, while Padme took the opportunity to leave the increasingly disturbing conversation behind, opening the door. It whooshed open to reveal a young man with bright eyes and sandy blond hair.

He smiled widely at them, looking at each of them in turn.

"Wow," he mouthed before he seemed to remember himself. He stepped into the room, bowing slightly. "I'm here to escort you back to Chancellor Mon Mothma. We have a lot to discuss."

"And you are?" Padme asked in irritation.

He seemed slightly put out by her tone, yet also embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck; a shiver went up Ahsoka's spine at the familiar gesture.

She could guess his words almost before he said them.

"Sorry. I – I'm Luke Skywalker and –"

"You're who?" Padme and Obi-Wan asked in shock.

Ahsoka barely caught sight of the smile on Anakin's face before she buried her head in her hands.

* * *

Obi-Wan seethed politely as he walked down the hall, pace clipped and unfortunately not nearly quick enough for his own tastes. If only he knew where in the blasted city they were, perhaps he wouldn't have to rely on this boy to guide them to their next information session. Or, even better, he could slip away to find out what had really occurred without Organa's daughter and Anakin's son – son! – handing out information piecemeal, as if it was some kind of favor.

Luke Skywalker walked ahead of the group and Obi-Wan almost felt guilty for the tension across his back, for the way his face had fallen at Obi-Wan's own reaction to his presence, but he couldn't quite bring himself to yet.

Obi-Wan still couldn't touch the Force, regardless of Anakin's own efforts to help restore his connection in their unpleasant and fruitless meditation session. His head ached from the lack and it was rapidly growing worse as he realized that he and Ahsoka were alone in their affliction. Organa's daughter certainly seemed fine and Luke wore a lightsaber on his belt, so he was presumably fine as well. Anakin, though he complained like a child about it, also had access to the Force, albeit limited in comparison to his usual power. It was quite obvious that it would bounce back for him, however, and Obi-Wan could not for the life of him see why that was not true for himself, or Ahsoka.

It was a grave injustice and among the things that was making his mood deteriorate rapidly.

So perhaps there would have been a better time to turn to Anakin, to shake him bodily, than when the group arrived at the conference room Mon Mothma had chosen to meet him in. But Obi-Wan was past caring.

He rounded on Anakin as soon as the door swished shut behind Padme, seizing him by the shoulders and ignoring Anakin's exaggerated wince.

"A son? You have a son? What were you thinking?"

"In my defense, Master, I'm not thinking it yet."

Mon Mothma stood from behind the long, oblong table. A holo flickered in the center of it, but Obi-Wan paid it no mind. Princess Leia was again at Mon Mothma's side and quickly joined by Luke, who flashed her a rueful grimace.

"It's bad enough that you are conducting an affair with Senator Amidala so obvious that even our hosts know about it," although, if the identity of Luke's mother was well known in this time, Obi-Wan supposed that would all have been clear enough to them already, "but to go ahead and have children is just egregiously indiscreet!"

"Okay, first of all," Anakin started. He pushed away from Obi-Wan, holding him off with a warding hand. "It's not an affair – we're married."

Obi-Wan did not want to admit that he was sputtering.

"You took vows to the Jedi Order! Anakin!"

Anakin raised two fingers on his hand.

"And second of all, you weren't this mad about me turning to the Dark Side in the future and that's pretty weird, so, stop it."

Obi-Wan worked his jaw, glaring back at Anakin.

"I now assume that the matters are related," he pronounced.

Ahsoka had circled over to where Luke and the Princess stood, squinting at them speculatively and then glancing back to Anakin. Padme had decided to forgo the argument, for the moment, simply sitting down at the table. She had an air about her very similar to what Obi-Wan remembered from the creche masters. She would be ready to have a discussion as soon as he had worked out his feelings and felt more civilized. Simply looking over at her made Obi-Wan feel vaguely ashamed – he was too old to throw tantrums and a Jedi Master certainly shouldn't comport himself in a way more suited to a toddler – but as soon as he looked back to Anakin, that shame disappeared fully. He may not have been making a good impression on their hosts, but he also wasn't a dark side leaning vow breaker.

Anakin completely ignored the implication of Obi-Wan statement.

"And third," another finger ticked upward, "I have a daughter too."

Obi-Wan frowned, but before he could speak, Ahsoka intervened.

"He's right, Master," she put in. She twitched her montrals toward the Princess. "I don't know why I didn't see it before."

Obi-Wan was done. He sighed, flinging himself down into one of the chairs.

"Well, that certainly explains her attitude – and where she got her idea of royal manner from."

"He did not raise me," Leia put in icily.

Mon Mothma raised a hand. She looked nearly as exhausted as Obi-Wan felt.

"Please," she said. She gestured and Anakin, as well as his erstwhile children, finally sat. Ahsoka took up a seat on Anakin's other side. "While that argument was rather illuminating, for several reasons, we have brought you here because we want to give you as full an accounting of events as we can."

"So things don't go wrong when we get back," Anakin added. He raised his eyebrows at her, voice unduly urgent as he asked, "Right?"

"We will see if that is possible," Mon Mothma said smoothly.

Anakin sat back, unsatisfied. He'd crossed his arms over his chest, glower fixed on the holo display.

"I thought we'd start with Darth Vader," Leia said. The holo flickered and reformed into a hideous death's head mask. A wheezing rasp filtered over the audio unit. With a shock, Obi-Wan realized that was the sound of the man breathing. Leia, rather than looking at her father, gazed steadily at Padme as she explained, "Otherwise known as Anakin Skywalker."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my fingers slipped while I was typing and now there's a bit of porn. Whoops? Skim the Anakin POV if uninterested.
> 
> Added a mood whiplash tag, if you didn't notice, because let's be honest, that's probably everything from here on out. I want to keep things relatively light, but it is SW and they are dealing with the horrible truth of everything Anakin does as Vader.

Padme stared down at her hands, knuckles white as she clenched them in her lap. There were holos of very few events – some of Order 66, Palpatine's declaration that the Republic was no more, the destruction of Alderaan.

But there were many of Vader, his horrible voice and hissing, mechanical breathing featured in every one of them.

Leia allowed them silence to recover themselves. All traces of vindictiveness had fled her face, cleared by the vision of her own planet being destroyed. Padme ached to look at her. She hadn't been able to recognize her own daughter. Even if she had been in pain, even if she had been lashing out, it felt wrong that Padme could come face to face with the girl and think nothing of her at all.

She was beautiful. And she had most definitely inherited Anakin's temper, though that fierceness in her eyes was hers alone.

Luke was something else. Determined and willful, just like his sister, but without the hardness Leia used as a shield. More like Ani as a boy, Padme thought fondly.

“I –” Anakin started. He was still looking at the space where the holo of Vader had been. He swallowed deeply, beginning again. “I know that sound.”

Obi-Wan looked faintly disturbed, but it was Leia who asked, “Which sound?”

“His – my – breathing. I've heard it in my dreams.”

“How long?” Obi-Wan asked sharply.

Anakin seemed to come back to himself and Padme was grateful for that. She didn't like how worn and exhausted he looked, how deeply affected he was by the holovids Leia and Luke had put together. She knew it was selfish, but she had preferred it when his only reaction was bravado and reckless indifference. Even if he said it sounded like him, just the fact that he wasn't taking it seriously made it easier for Padme to dismiss what their children were saying.

But now he was taking it seriously. Now, he was worried, and Padme could barely admit to herself how afraid she really was.

“Since I was a child.” Anakin looked to Padme, tone apologetic for all the wrong reasons. “Before I started dreaming of you.”

Padme forced her hand to unclench, laying it on top of Anakin's. Immediately he turned his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. Padme felt absurdly reassured by the gesture.

“Ani, you are no more destined for that,” she said with feeling, “than we were to be married. I made the choice to be with you – not the Force.”  
Anakin pressed his lips together, shaking his head, but he didn't argue the point.

“What I'd like to know is exactly what that is,” Ahsoka said loudly. She had her chair leaned back, knee propped against the table as she glared at the holo. It looked like she was trying to get as far as she could from the image without actually getting up.

“Vader?” Mon Mothma asked. She frowned. The holos had made it pretty clear exactly who and what he was, after all.

“No.” Ahsoka let her chair right itself, standing suddenly. She jabbed a finger at the image of Vader's mask. “That. That mask, that suit! What the kriff happened?”

“Language, Snips,” Anakin said absently.

Ahsoka scowled at him. Obi-Wan placed his hands on the table, leaning forward to lock eyes with Leia.

“I too would like to know what happened.”

Leia shrugged and made a gestured toward Luke, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Padme frowned. It wasn't clear why one of their children would know, yet not the other – even given Leia's obvious antipathy toward Anakin.

Luke avoided Obi-Wan's eyes for a long moment until Obi-Wan pointedly cleared his throat. He gave in with a sigh, lifting his head.

“I was told that Father's injuries were the result of a fight. That you,” Luke looked away again as Obi-Wan's expression tightened, “you both fought on the edge of a volcano. In the end, Father lost and you left him there. You thought he was dead.”

“Who told you that?” Obi-Wan asked. His voice was quiet, strained. Padme threw a sympathetic look over to him. All of this was baffling – that Anakin would turn, that Obi-Wan would not only try to kill him, but leave him in such a horrific state.

It wasn't a future she could ever let come to pass, for them or the galaxy.

“You did,” Luke answered.

Obi-Wan sat up straighter.

“Did I …” he trailed off for a moment, glancing to Anakin and then back to Luke, “Did I ever tell you why?”

“Why?” Luke asked blankly.

Mon Mothma and Leia looked similarly confused, but Padme knew precisely what he was asking. Why he had fought Anakin was clear enough – perhaps even why he hadn't killed Anakin, even if the injures he'd dealt were heinous enough on their own.

But why would Anakin turn. Why would he do any of what they said?

Anakin gave a miserable laugh from next to Obi-Wan, startling him. He raked his hands through his hair, looking up at the other man. His eyes gleamed, mouth twisting with an unpleasant smile.

“Come on, Master, you said it yourself,” Anakin said. He twitched his head toward Padme. “There's only one reason I'd ever turn.”

Padme felt like she'd been slapped. She knew their marriage was a violation of the Jedi Code – knew why Jedi forbade attachment – but to hear Anakin put it so bluntly made her feel dizzy, sick.

The emotion echoed across the Force to Anakin. He startled at the feeling, eyes catching hers before he slid from his chair to the floor. He knelt in front of her and took her limp hands in his, looking up at her with a terrible kind of earnestness.

“Don't – don't look like that,” he whispered. His warm, flesh hand squeezed hers and she clung to it, wringing it with what ought to have been painful strength. Anakin didn't even blink. “It's my fault, I know that. It's all my fault. I love you, Padme, but I know I shouldn't.”

He'd looked at her once like this, at Varykino. She'd told him that living a lie would destroy them and he'd agreed – but when he gazed back at her, she knew he would be happy with that. Being destroyed, if it meant they could be together.

Padme stared at him, throat closed with emotion. There wasn't anything she could even say – except that she felt exactly the same.

“That does appear to be the crux of the problem,” Obi-Wan put in. Padme jerked, looking away from Anakin. Obi-Wan had stood up, circling around to stand, looking disapprovingly down at Anakin. He raised his eyebrows. “You are aware that you should not, and yet you do.”

“I can't help how I feel.”

Obi-Wan raised his hands to his head in frustration.

“Yes! Yes, you can! That's what Jedi do!”

Anakin climbed to his feet.

“Maybe I don't want to meditate away the only good feelings in my life, Master! Not everyone can be like you!”

“Yes, well, as the alternative appears to be 'murdering every Jedi in the galaxy' and 'being set on fire', perhaps you should look into trying.”

Mon Mothma sat back in her seat. She looked rather appalled by the unfolding scene. Padme winced. Jedi were not usually the go-to actors for dramatic emotional blow outs. Unless the Jedi in question was Anakin.

“I don't want to turn, Master. But – “ he broke off, looking at Padme. “There has to be another way.”

“You must choose, Anakin. You realize that. You cannot be a Jedi if you have broken your vows so thoroughly. And you can hardly be a husband when you maintain the pretense of being devoted to the Order.”

Anakin shook his head slowly. His expression was one of desolate disbelief.

“Obi-Wan, don't you see? I did choose. That's what happens in the future. I choose – and I choose her.”

“Anakin,” Padme put in gently. “I would never ask you to do those things.”

“If they tried to separate us, you wouldn't have to.”

The room fell silent at Anakin's declaration. Even Leia seemed disturbed, fists clenched on the table and nails biting into her palms. Luke had scooted his chair closer to her, laying his hand on her arm, obviously as much to comfort her as for himself. Meanwhile, Mon Mothma looked like she was on the verge of calling security.

Obi-Wan's disappointment was palpable. He broke his gaze away from Anakin and walked silently from the room. Anakin cursed softly as he watched him go.

“I'll go get him,” Ahsoka said cautiously.

Anakin scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Probably not a great idea, Snips. Let him be.” He dropped his hands, looking at her. “Unless you just want to get out of here. Wouldn't blame you.”

She smiled weakly at him.

“Didn't even cross my mind, Skyguy.”

Padme didn't need to be a Jedi to sense a lie.

* * *

Anakin did not sleep.

Padme drifted into their shared room, throwing a wistful glance behind her at Anakin. She accepted the single shake of his head he gave, the false promise that he would eventually join her. He stood at the door for a long time, after he felt her fall asleep, watching her breathe, brushing against the fringes of her dreams. Nightmares tried to encroach from the edges of her mind and he soothed them away. He could do at least that much.

The odd, snuffling sounds Ahsoka made in her sleep filled the shared apartment for some time, and Anakin almost smiled as he listened.

But soon enough his attention was drawn back to Obi-Wan's door. He pressed his palm flat to it, wishing he had the will to knock. He could feel the darkness seeping from the room, Obi-Wan's frustration, his anger. His disappointment. All unleashed because Obi-Wan still could not reach the Force and suffered all the more for it every minute that he isolated himself.

Anakin wasn't sure how long he stood there. Even a day ago he wouldn't have hesitated to just open the door himself, argue with Obi-Wan until his true feelings finally came out.

“You should talk to him,” Padme said from behind him.

Anakin half turned. In the dark suite, he could only make out the bright glint of her eyes. She felt weary, tense.

He held out his hand to her, relieved when she took it, and pull her in close to his side. He ran his gloved finger lightly over her cheek.

“Nightmares?”

He'd lost focus, hadn't been there to push them away from her.

She let her eyes close and turned into his touch; he slid his palm to cup her face.

“You weren't there when I woke up,” she explained. She'd known he wouldn't be. He almost never was. But he felt a twist of guilt.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“It's not you,” she told him. She stepped closer, into the light shed by the city outside and he could make out the fierce lines of her face. “It's not you, Anakin.”

“Yet.”

He'd sat in that same light, the light shining in her eyes, looking at the burnt husk of the Temple, thinking of all the friends he would one day kill. He'd admitted as much to Obi-Wan. He would. He would do it.

She grabbed him by his arms.

“Never.”

He nodded, because that was all he could do. She would take it as a vow; she would hold him to it. The thought was oddly wonderful. Padme would never let him break this promise, anymore than the others he had made to her.

Impulsively, feeling lighter than he had since he woke chained in the medbay, he ducked his head down, kissing Padme on the mouth. She craned her neck, responding immediately and smiling against his mouth.

When he drew back, he finally took a good look at her and his eyes flew wide in shock. His fingers touched her shoulder, plucking at the thin material.

“What are you wearing?”

It was plain enough. Obi-Wan's undertunic draped over her small figure, hanging on her like any of the shifts she wore to sleep. But the hem fell only barely far enough to be decent and the neckline was not decent in any way. Her breasts were all but exposed, pale in Coruscant's midnight light, the neck wide on her small frame and plunging to just above her navel. And Force, he sometimes forgot how thin the tunics were, they wore so many layers of them. If he thought the shirt was somewhat shapeless on Padme, the idea was quickly chased from his mind as she stepped away from him, nearer the window, sheer fabric revealing everything.

Padme looked up at him from beneath her lashes.

“You're still wearing yours,” she explained simply, sly smile on her mouth. “And my clothes are still on the ship.”

“When did you talk to Obi-Wan?” he asked.

“While you were brooding.”

He hadn't actually stopped brooding since they returned to the suite, so that didn't explain much.

Padme held out her arms to him, silhouetted by the light of the city.

In two steps, Anakin was back on her, hands under Obi-Wan's shirt as they pulled her hips to him. She gasped softly under his touch and he restrained a growl, lifting her off her feet as he found the nearest flat surface. Her back collided with the wall and she arched against it. He held her steady with the Force as kissed her, hands joining hers on his belt.

“Wait, Anakin,” Padme said breathlessly. She shrugged a shoulder and Obi-Wan's shirt slid off it. He bent to kiss the revealed skin. “Anakin, it's his. Let me take it off.”

Anakin decided he was just going to ignore that. He'd done a lot worse and Obi-Wan wasn't going to feel the Force impressions on his shirt anyway. He concentrated on Padme's neck, kissing up her throat, making her breath hitch as she pressed her head back against the wall.

“Anakin,” she protested again.

Anakin pulled away from her long enough to meet her eyes. Her lips were parted, wet and swollen from kissing, flush on her cheeks faint in the dim light, her eyes bright. She never looked more beautiful than in this moment, when she gave into her desire for him.

He rubbed his leg between her legs, feeling just how hot and wet she already was and she squirmed against the rough fabric.

“No. Keep it on.” He kissed her deeply, feeling near frantic. Pressing his forehead against hers, he whispered, “I like it.”

Padme's chuckled was low as she finally worked his belt loose, reaching into his trousers to find him ready. She stroked up and down his length, a sweet, dark smile on her face, grasp firm. Anakin shuddered under her touch. His hand flexed on her shoulder, rubbing the rough fabric. It was Obi-Wan's, he kept thinking. His cock twitched in Padme's hand. She glanced down, that amazing smile still on her face.

“I should have done this a lot sooner, then,” Padme said.

Anakin bit back a growl, pushing her hard against the wall and thrusting into her in one smooth stroke. Padme shut her eyes, straining to arch against him as he fucked her, legs coming up to wrap around Anakin's waist. She scrabbled for purchased on his shoulders, one hand hooked in hard with her nails as the other pulled on his neck. He bent under the pressure, nipping the skin along her throat, as he thrust.

“I love you,” Padme said again and again. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze steadily. “I trust you.”

Anakin stilled at the words. Fear twisted in his belly.

“Ani,” she whispered. Her hand came up from his neck, fingers brushing the hair from his face. He turned into the touch to kiss her hand, to hide his face.

He could say anything he was thinking, not now, because he knew those words weren't anything she wanted to hear. He would do anything for her. Anything at all, terrible things.

Padme slid her leg up his side, urging him to move. Anakin grabbed at it roughly, hand under her thigh as he picked up the pace, fucking her hard against the wall. Padme threw back her head, clenching around him suddenly. She gasped as she came and he followed her quickly.

Eventually, he settled her back on her feet, separating from her and righting his clothes. His thin shirt was damp with sweat and he felt chilled, hollow. Already he wanted to reach for her again, but instead he stepped backwards.

Padme didn't let him go far. She reached out a hand and he couldn't help but take it, letting her draw him back into her embrace. His eyes were damp and he ducked down, pressing his face to her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I'm sorry,” he said into her skin, hoping the words were muffled. What he meant was don't. Don't trust me. Don't ever trust me.

* * *

Luke rapped on the door, hoping this encounter with his parents would go a little more smoothly. He fidgeted as he waited for a response, boots dangling awkwardly from one hand. They were awake – or, at least, Ben and his father's apprentice were – he could sense that much. They didn't seem altogether happy to be awake, though.

He sighed as he felt Ahsoka grudgingly walk over to the door, opening it with her hand. The door snapped open with a hissed, revealing her tired face. Her complexion had gone pinkish and she held one hand near her montrals, as if trying to soothe away an ache.

“Not feeling any better?” he asked.

She managed a weak smile.

“I opened the door with my hand, what do you think?” she replied. She cast a look down to the boots. “Not my size.”

“They're my father's.”

Ahsoka pulled a face at the word, but stepped aside, gesturing for him to come into the suite. Ben was camped on one of the sitting room chairs, hand shading his face as if he was suffering from the galaxy's worst hangover. Luke felt a twinge of concern. He didn't know why they seemed to be getting worse rather than better – why Anakin appeared to be unaffected.

Luke stooped to place the boots down next to the sofa – he chanced a glance toward one of the closed bedroom doors where he sensed his parents and instantly regretted it – and sat on the corner nearest to Ben, reaching out tentatively in the Force. He could feel Ben, the shape and power of him, and yet he seemed entirely cut off.

“Are you alright?”

Ben jerked upright, blinking in surprise. He settled back after a long moment, straightening his robes, giving all appearance of being casual. Luke cocked his head, trying to figure out what seemed different until, quite suddenly, he realized that Ben was down a tunic. Well, Luke supposed he could get someone to reset the environmentals if it was too hot. He hoped the time travel hadn’t somehow made Ben sick.

“I'm well enough,” Ben said smoothly. “What brings you here? I'm afraid your parents are still asleep.”

They weren't, but Luke was trying not to think about that.

“They're not the only ones I'm interested in. I thought … I'm the only Jedi the galaxy has left. I was hoping for some help.”

“And you came to me?” Ben asked in surprise.

“Us,” Ahsoka contradicted. She had gone into the kitchenette area, retrieving one of the pastries the Palace staffers delivered in the early morning – Leia's idea, circumventing Luke's attempt to plan a breakfast for everyone – and settled cross legged on the couch next to Luke. She hummed as she bit into the pastry, crumbs falling onto the cushions. “But Obi-Wan has a point.”

Luke shook his head.

“We were friends. I don't see why it's so –”

“I trained Anakin,” Ben explained. His brow was furrowed, pain as plain on his face as confusion. “I raised him.”

“And Anakin trained me. So, you know. We may not be the best choices for how to rebuild the Jedi. Given how things apparently turn out.”

Luke felt a snap of anger at that. He had more than enough experience to be able to sort bad advice from good – coming from Ben himself, even. And he'd much rather have that advice to start from than just blankly be denied any help.

Behind him, the door to his parents' room opened and almost all thought of arguing with Ben fled. Luke turned, catching a flash of his mother curled on the bed, wearing something that looked suspiciously like Ben's missing shirt, and then the door closed again. Anakin stretched, yawning loudly before climbing over the back of the sofa to slump against Ahsoka.

“Master! Get off, get off!” She pushed at him, but he'd already slung an arm around her shoulder. She giggled right up until he plucked her unfinished pastry right out of her hand, and then she glared in earnest. “Hey, that's mine!”

Anakin flicked flakes of dough off his fingers. He looked terrible. His hair was even more unkempt than the day before, the circles under his eyes dark as bruises. He wore only his trousers and a thin undershirt which stuck to his skin.

“I suggest a meditation on the transience of possession,” Anakin said glibly.

“Or the transience of your face,” Ahsoka growled back. She shrugged a shoulder, suddenly affecting a sweet tone, “I mean, lightsabers turn on and off so quickly.”

Anakin's response to that was to seize her bodily, hauling her in for a long, sweaty hug.

“No, ugh, Master, humans are so gross!” she sputtered. She smacked at his head, trying to get his hair out of her mouth.

Ben hid his smile behind his hand, but Luke didn't hesitate to smile in his relief. After the arguments the day before, he hadn't at all been sure what he would be walking into. He had to admit that it was nice to see Anakin and Ahsoka returning to apparent normalcy.

“The bond between Master and Padawan is quite unique,” Ben said wryly. He raised his voice somewhat, directing his words to Anakin, “I do believe Ahsoka has learned enough for the moment, especially regarding identifying humans by scent. Perhaps a shower is in order?”

Anakin dropped his arms and backed away from Ahsoka. He looked at Ben warily.

“So you're talking to me again?”

Ben sighed. The two men looked at each other for a long, disquieting moment. Luke could feel Anakin brush up against Ben in the Force, testing his emotional reaction, but Force or no, Ben shielded himself too well for a decent reading.

Anakin scowled suddenly and climbed over the back of the sofa, stalking off in the direction of the fresher.

Luke shook his head.

“Sometimes he comes off like an overgrown teenager.”

It wasn't at all what he'd expected to see from his father. The stories he'd heard were all of the brave and dashing knight, the hero of the Clone Wars. Even though this Anakin was, in a lot of ways, a more relateable, enjoyable person, Luke admitted that he was a little disappointed that he was just so immature.

Ben looked shifty while Ahsoka slanted him a confused look.

“How old do think he is?” she asked. She looked Luke up and down. “I mean, you're what, twenty? Twenty two?”

“Twenty four, actually.”

Give or take, since his and Leia's birthdays didn't actually match up – even accounting for planetary differences – and they didn't know when their real birthday was.

Ahsoka shrugged.

“Well, you've got a couple of years on him, then.”

Luke pressed his lips together. He liked his father – believed in him – and he liked what he'd seen of the others so far. But they were just so full of excuses. He'd been younger than Anakin was now when he destroyed the first Death Star. Leia had been younger still when she started fighting with the Alliance. Age just didn't account for it.

“Trust me when I tell you,” Ben added seriously. He leaned forward, palms on his knees, “that you do not want to know how bad he was as an actual teenager.”

Luke contemplated just what a young Anakin Skywalker would be like to deal with, let alone parent, and then considered a serious talk with Leia and Han about their own plans. They might need an advanced strategy, depending on just how strong those genes were.

“Did I take you as my Padawan?” Ben asked.

Luke blinked in surprise, dragging his attention back to the man. He had cocked his head, eyes scanning over him – in place of an examination in the Force, Luke was well aware.

“You trained me,” he said after a long beat. Then he held up his hand, apologetic look on his face. “But not for very long. You died soon after and Yoda trained me, though you still helped out. I was raised by my aunt and uncle on Tatooine.”

Obi-Wan, to all appearances, did not even hear the last sentence.

“After I died?”

Luke furrowed his brow. That had seemed like a standard Jedi technique.

“Yeah. You disappeared when you died and then you visited sometimes, talking to me as … I don't know, a ghost, I guess.”

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan still looked entirely floored at the idea. Ahsoka gave a low whistle.

“Way to go,” she said. “I guess.”

“Wait, did you say that Master Yoda trained you?” Obi-Wan asked. An almost boyish excitement filled his face. “Perhaps he can help us reconnect with the Force.”

That was possible, Luke considered. Yoda hadn't visited him after his death, not like Obi-Wan's frequent talks or Anakin's single, brief visit. But that didn't mean he couldn't be contacted. It'd been years between Obi-Wan's death and the first vision he'd had of Obi-Wan's ghost on Hoth.

“I can try,” Luke said uncertainly. “I've never been able to get either of you to come just because I asked.”

The excitement vanished off of Obi-Wan's face.

“Either of us? Do you mean that he's also a ghost?”

Ahsoka rubbed her hand down the side of her face.

“Your sister really wasn't kidding about all the Jedi being dead, was she?”

Luke shrugged.

He was saved from explaining by Anakin shambled out of the fresher, looking somewhat better for it, but still exhausting merely to look at. He’d given up on his shirt entirely, but he perked up when he saw his boots next to the sofa and threw himself down onto the floor to pull them on.

Luke watched, shaking his head all the while.

“You look awful,” Ahsoka said bluntly.

Anakin did not look up from fastening his boots.

“So do you.” He slapped the side securement on the leather and then frowned, peering up at her. “Why is that, anyway?”

“Because I still can’t use the Force.”

“Neither of us can,” Ben reminded Anakin.

Anakin tilted his head to the side, apparently accepting that, before turning to his other boot.

Luke looked among the three Jedi. They seemed to think that Anakin being the odd one out had no particular meaning.

“And that doesn’t strike you as strange?” he asked.

He looked intently at Ben, trying to puzzle out why the man seemed so entirely nonplussed by the question. Ben stroked his beard before giving a light shrug. Ahsoka shared the sentiment.

“Happens a lot. I think the Force just likes Skyguy better than us sometimes,” Ahsoka said.

“It does seem to play favorites,” Ben said. He gave Ahsoka an amused smile. “Perhaps it's because he's not entirely human after all.”

Anakin scowled.

He tapped the side of his hand against the line where flesh met durasteel on his other arm, eyes bright as he swept a glare over them.

“Hey, I resent that! I’m ninety to ninety five percent human! At least!”

Ben raised his eyebrows at Anakin who sighed. The offense had been little more than a deflection and not one Ben was falling for any time this decade.

“You mean because he’s the ‘Chosen One’?” Luke asked dubiously.

They hadn’t even explained what that meant. He hated to admit it, but it sounded more than faintly ridiculous. He’d personally experienced prophetic visions and he knew just how unreliable they were – or, at least, how misleading.

“Precisely,” Ben said. “Anakin has the highest midichlorian count ever recorded. He was off the charts, in fact.”

“Because he was directly created by the Force. He doesn't even have a human father. He's literally the Force's child.”

Luke did his best not to gape in surprise. That was not what he had expected. He knew his family was a little weird, but that was extreme.

“Is that even possible?” he asked.

“No, it's not,” Anakin told him. He turned his attention on Ahsoka. “We’re all children of the Force, Snips. That’s what it means to be a Jedi.”

Luke had no idea how he managed to sound so entirely resentful while quoting obvious liturgy.

Ahsoka's lips quirked into an affectionate smile. She reached over the arm of the sofa to ruffle his wet hair.

“Not the way you are.”

Luke watch silently, thinking perhaps this explained their disbelief, their indulgence. If they believed Anakin was the son of the Force itself, it would be nearly impossible to think he'd turn to the Dark Side. That he would harm any of them, despite all the evidence.

Anakin scoffed at Ahsoka, but was quickly distracted from the argument as Padme stepped into the room. He tilted his head back and she leaned down, kissing his forehead quickly. He reached his hand up, briefly entangling it with hers before letting it slide from her grasp. Obi-Wan didn't seem at all pleased by the interaction, frustration and an odd kind of resignation echoing across from him in the Force.

Ahsoka wasn’t as affected. She choked back a laugh at the sight of Padme’s outfit, which looked to be two Anakin’s tunics, repurposed into a layered black dress that fell to her knees.

“What are you wearing?” Ben asked. He tamped down on his emotions, faking interest.

Padme gave him a withering look.

“I have decided this has gone on long enough. I’m going to talk to my daughter,” she announced and turned on her heel. Her shoes didn’t at all match her dress, Luke thought. She walked toward the door with purpose, voice taking on a grim note, “And to get my wardrobe back.”


	5. Chapter 5

Han opened the door. And immediately wished he hadn't.

Before he could slam his hand down on the control to shut the door in Leia's mother's face, the woman had already managed to push past him. Except that wasn't the right term and he didn't know what was. The woman had a kind of forceful dignity about her that precluded almost all resistance. She didn't have to push past him because, now that he thought of it, he'd actually moved out of her way and didn't have a damn idea why.

Spooky, he concluded. All of the Skywalkers, even the one without the Force.

Leia's mother – Amidala – walked unerringly through the apartment, directly to the table Threepio was setting for breakfast. Han jogged the distance in a few steps, skidding to a halt and throwing Leia a sheepish grin as she looked up from the datapad she was studying, glaring daggers at him. Leia was not yet dressed, still in the old shirt of Han's she wore to bed, and he couldn't help but wince at the thought of how her parents might react.

Han was a casual guy, tried not to care too much about these little social graces. But on the other hand, he wasn't keen to be tortured by Vader again.

Amidala had been distracted however.

"Threepio?" she asked in disbelief.

Leia tossed her datapad onto the table, face screwing up for a moment, eyes flashing. Then she laughed, unpleasantly, and her posture went slack. Her nightshirt looked like it was just about ready to slip off her shoulder.

"You know my droid?" Leia asked. She gave Han a tight, angry smile. "My mother knows my droid, Han. Isn't that wonderful?"

Amidala drew herself up. Her hands brushed down the front of her black, layered dress – Han didn't know what it was with Skywalkers and black – and she straightened her back. Her expression was mild, for all that her voice was filled with reproach.

"I do know the droid my husband built," she said coolly.

"Excuse me," Threepio put in. He somehow managed to convey offense as he finished setting the table, stepping up to Amidala. "But I don't believe I do know you. Or your husband, my lady."

Amidala reached out to put her hand on Threepio's shoulder.

"I'll explain later. And don't worry, Ani'll restore your memory." She looked to Leia. "We'll fix everything."

Leia sighed and Han knew the feeling. He started edging out of the room .

"I'll just … let you two talk this out, why don't I?"

"Han," Leia snapped.

"You know, this is why I never shoulda gone respectable," Han complained.

But he snagged a chair, turning it around to straddle it. He laid one arm across the top of it, his other near his belt and blaster. Amidala seemed nice enough, cordial and royal, but Han had more than learned his lesson about dealing with Leia's family.

Amidala's gaze flicked over him.

"I don't believe we have been introduced."

She turned back to look at Leia, as if it was her personal failing that had led to Han completely avoiding all of the Skywalker drama for as long as he could. Leia met her gaze implacably.

"Han Solo," he said. He moved his hand from his blaster, holding it out to Amidala. And despite her airs, she shook it firmly. He shrugged a shoulder and added languidly, "General of the Alliance, but I'm trying to put that behind me and get back to being a scoundrel."

There was a hint of a smile on Amidala's face. Apparently it wasn't that easy to rattle her. Leia looked less amused.

"Is there something the matter with your accommodations?" she asked. Han thought she was managing to look very stately, even if his shirt was falling off her shoulder.

"Not at all." Amidala brushed her hands down her dress – somewhat pointedly – and then sat at the table, posture perfect and elegant. "However, I feel that your hospitality is still lacking."

Leia raised her eyebrows. And suddenly Han felt like he was missing an undercurrent of their discussion.

"In what regard?"

Amidala glared. She was through playing games.

"My wardrobe is on the Resolute."

That was when Han realized that she was not wearing a dress. She was wearing Jedi tunics, belted together. He let out a quick bark of horrified laughter, shaking his head. They weren't just any Jedi tunics. They were Darth Vader's tunics, from back when he was all noble and heroic – as if that meant a damn thing.

"You want your clothes back," Han said. He shook his head incredulously. His kriffing life. "You marched over here because you want your clothes back."

"Holding back supplies and amenities is typical practice for softening up prisoners, General Solo. As I am sure you know," Amidala said calmly. "If you wish to keep us off balance to try to make us pliable, then go ahead. Continue. But if you are willing to be as good as your word and treat us as guests rather than enemy soldiers, I demand access to the Resolute, to our crew, our officers, and our possessions."

Leia rubbed at her temple.

"Fine. You can go up." She dropped her arm onto the table, pinning Amidala with a look. "Only you."

Amidala smiled and began serving herself from the table.

"I'm not sure what I have done to make you think I am less of a partisan for Anakin than either Ahsoka or Obi-Wan," she said lightly. She poured herself a cup of caf, hands coming to cup it as she sipped, amusement plain as she watched Leia. "I wouldn't have thought holding a blaster on you would have that effect – although I do apologize for that."

Han snapped his head around.

"She what? Sweetheart, you didn't tell that."

Leia waved him off irritably.

"I guess I know where you get it," he grumbled.

It was a comforting thought, to be honest. Her temper had always seemed pure Skywalker. Not that it was great that she had apparently gotten a double dose, but it certainly felt a little more normal, a little less crazy Skywalker destiny, to look at her mother and see those similarities.

"I suppose we could have handled the situation more diplomatically," Leia allowed.

Amidala inclined her head, acknowledging the point. Then she shifted forward, a sly expression on her face. She reached her hand across the table and Leia took it without apparent thought. It was nice, Han thought.

"So, how'd you two meet?" Amidala asked, eyes sparkling.

Han frowned. That was less nice.

"I was in Imperial custody on the Death Star right after it destroyed Alderaan," Leia said bluntly. She did not let go of her mother's hand as she watched the woman, hoping for a reaction. "Luke and Han tried to rescue me."

"We didn't try – we did," Han said.

Leia cast him a look.

"Alright," he amended. "You may have done a little more rescuing than us, but we did get the door to your cell open!"

"I can't imagine. Losing your entire planet in one moment. I am truly sorry for everything you have been through. That I wasn't there."

Leia swallowed deeply. She seemed alarmed by Amidala's sincerity, the love visible on her face. Han shifted. Hell, it was making him uncomfortable. Amidala smiled, aware of their reactions and trying to deflect it as she continued, "But that kind of rescue sounds pretty familiar. I should tell you about the time Grievous –"

"Vader was there," Leia cut her off.

Amidala's smile faded, her face going tight as she tried not to react.

"On the Death Star."

"Yes," Leia said fiercely. "He was there when Tarkin destroyed Alderaan. He interrogated me beforehand and after Alderan … after he was the one holding me back ."

Han had never heard that part before. He felt a weird churning in his stomach at the thought. Leia facing one of the worst moments of her life, and the only person there was Vader, very possibly stopping her from getting gunned down. It really, really wasn't hard to imagine her trying to kill Tarkin there. Harder to imagine anyone not wanting to.

He'd seen the holo Luke and Leia put together, so he knew that the Vader stuff wasn't as much of a surprise as Leia maybe meant it to be. Her folks knew about Alderaan, knew about the mask and heavy breathing. He wanted to lean over, take her in his arms, and tell her that she didn't need to keep fighting it so hard. If they didn't get it, they weren't going to – and hey, he probably could have told her that. There was a reason they'd let everything be destroyed to begin with.

But his cynicism would probably make things even worse. He tucked his chin onto his arm, watching Leia carefully. He could make out a barely suppressed tremble to her lip. Times like this he wished he could do Luke's thing, reassure her with the Force, tell her he was here even if he couldn't move a muscle.

All he had were words.

"Hey, Princess, you don't have to –"

"Han, I'm fine," Leia said. She raised her head, looking as stately as she did in any gown. They certainly were a matched set, these two.

Amidala pressed her lips together, thinking silently for a long moment. It was impossible to tell what she was going on in her mind.

"He interrogated you?" she asked finally.

"If you want to call it that."

Amidala nodded. She didn't need more than the implication, it seemed. Politicians.

"You're going to walk right back to him after this, aren't you?" Leia asked. She cocked her head slowly, judgment in her eyes.

"I was going to get my clothes first," Amidala said. The joke fell flat and she shifted awkwardly. She pulled on the inner tunic, pressing the fold down to lessen the neckline. If it was a vulnerable gesture, it didn't show on her face.

Han was starting to think maybe this lady had more in common with her husband than just the fashion taste – something about masks, too, even if hers were invisible.

"But yes. Luke says that Anakin returned to the Light Side in the end and I just –" she broke off, voice shaking. "I don't see why we would be here if it wasn't to save him, to stop all of this. I love him and I know he is a good man."

Leia sighed. She moved her hand out of her mother's, patting it with more warmth than she'd shown all morning.

"I know. Luke... he always believes the best of everyone. I think I know where he got that. And the two of you together, you can probably do everything I'd never believe in enough to try," Leia said gently. She gave a light rueful shrug as she sat back. "Han's right about seeing where I get it from. I know what he is, what I am. We're not the believers – but we do love them. Maybe that's enough. I just –"

Han rolled his eyes. She always said things like that, but no one had ever made him believe before he met the both of them. He certainly never would have hung his hopes on the Alliance's chances without her leading the way, fighting the Empire and inspiring everyone around her.

"You are a lot like him," Amidala said. She favored her daughter with a kind look. "You and Han met in a crisis? The story isn't that different for Anakin and I – although we were both much younger..."

* * *

 

Anakin rolled his head from side to side before dropping it down onto his chin with a sigh. His eyes flicked between Luke and Obi-Wan as they talked. Even Ahsoka hadn't been this bad. She was all kinds of eager when she first became his Padawan, and certainly as ready to take lessons from Obi-Wan as him, but she wasn't quite so starry eyed. At all.

He nudged her where she sat next to him, also cross legged.

"I'm awake!" she said loudly, eyes snapping open.

"You certainly are now, Snips. Haven't I taught you to be mindful?" he teased.

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes, leaning on one hand away from him to study him. She frowned slightly.

"No. I don't think that you have."

Anakin made a mental note to do that sometime. He flicked his fingers toward where Luke hung on Obi-Wan's every word – he'd been lecturing for some time on post-Schism Jedi philosophy and the particular doctrines of Master Gu-Un-Jithan.

"Why don't you ever look at me like that?"

"Because I know you."

"Fair enough," Anakin admitted. He pitched his voice to interrupt Obi-Wan's speech, "Not that this isn't interesting… but it's not."

Luke half turned, disappointment written on his face.

"Anakin, just because you failed your theology classes, that doesn't mean that they aren't an important part of Luke's spiritual heritage."

Anakin raised a finger, jabbing it at Obi-Wan.

"First of all, I didn't fail. Master Koth just didn't like my thesis about the Declination Sect's incorrect interpretation of the Parable of Ossus." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. He'd said many times that it didn't actually matter how that failing mark came about and that perhaps Anakin could have tried for a less radical interpretation of the text. Or taking any of Koth's notes, at all, about finding supporting texts to cite. Which was still ridiculous and beside the point. "And second, if we're going to have a theological discussion, maybe it could be a little bit more relevant to our actual situation. Say, about this ghost thing?"

After Padme left to confront their daughter, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had filled him in about Luke's very odd, abbreviated Jedi training. Luke had added that, apparently, Anakin himself had appeared to him as a ghost as well, which was just bizarre. It was completely at odds with everything he'd ever been taught. Jedi didn't retain their identities in the Force after death any more than other beings did.

It was a lonely thought. For all that this future was terrible – that Anakin's own future was going to be replete with misery – he'd at least had the comfort of reunion in the Force. He felt a clench of visceral horror that, even in death, he'd never see Padme again. Never atone for what he had done to her.

Luke repositioned himself in between Obi-Wan and Anakin, looking between the two of them. He spread his hands wide.

"I already said all I know. I thought it was normal for Jedi."

"Well, it's not," Anakin said shortly.

"Maybe it's meant to be – look, you all keep bringing up this Chosen One thing, the prophecy and balance. That means something is wrong with the Force and with the Jedi. Isn't it possible this … whatever it is, was part of fixing everything?"

Obi-Wan looked disturbed at the thought.

"I have trouble seeing how separating oneself from the Force could be parcel to balancing it."

"Hey, I don't know any better than you do. But I do know that it came naturally to Anakin. Whatever it is, it's not a technique. He never had the chance to learn it after he returned to the Light Side."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," a voice said. Anakin sat up straight, feeling the Force shimmer before the image of an old man, blue and shadowed, stepped into the circle of their discussion. "Time is quite different, in the Force."

Luke grinned.

"Ben! I was hoping you'd turn up."

Anakin tensed, staring at the ghost. This was the Obi-Wan he'd betrayed, whose friends he had killed. The man he'd eventually murdered.

The old ghost smiled gently at Luke before turning to look at Anakin.

"There is nothing to fear from me, old friend," he said. "We have long since reconciled."

"Master?" Ahsoka asked. She punched him in the arm and he, very briefly, dragged his gaze away from Obi-Wan's ghost. She looked disconcerted and annoyed – and Anakin realized she couldn't see the ghost at all. Beyond the blue glow of the ghost, his own Obi-Wan looked just as irritated. "What's happening? Is there really a ghost here?"

"I – yes, Snips. There's really a ghost. Obi-Wan's ghost." He exhaled unsteadily. The ghost looked worn and tired in a way Obi-Wan never should, but increasingly seemed to. Shouldn't immortality have done something about that? After a beat, he added, "He looks old."

The ghost chuckled.

"I have missed you, Anakin. And you may tell Ahsoka the same."

"So she's not there with you?" Anakin asked.

"Who isn't?" Ahsoka demanded. She snorted and her Force presence shivered with an emotion it took a moment for him to recognize, coming from her. "Oh, who am I kidding?"

She thought he was asking after Padme. Anakin blinked rapidly, trying to process that reaction from her. He felt off center, talking to Obi-Wan's ghost, asking if the apprentice at his side was dead, while disappointment emanated off of her.

"There were few of us," Obi-Wan said. "You and Yoda chose to rejoin the Force. I cannot say whether Ahsoka joined it before them. I never spoke with her during the dark times."

Anakin's mouth twisted with annoyance.

"At least some things never change. That didn't answer anything."

Obi-Wan's ghost gave an indifferent shrug.

"I'm glad I could help."

"I have to say," Obi-Wan put in from behind the ghost. His hand was pressed to his brow, fingers shading his eyes. "I am not enjoying this at all."

"Master, can you…" Anakin trailed off, looking back at the ghost, who seemed bemused but hardly to be in pain, "Can you feel him?"

"No, and that is rather the point," Obi-Wan snapped.

"Alright, alright," Luke said. He waved his hands, forestalling further derailment. He didn't look at all charmed by the interplay between Anakin and Obi-Wan. "I think we're off track here. Ben, what can you tell us about what's going on? How are we going to get everyone back to their own time?"

Obi-Wan gathered his ghostly robes up and perched next to Luke on the couch, palms on his knees.

"I can't say that I know, young Luke. There is a tear in the Force nearby, but it is healing. I don't know that it is possible to pass through it again, or that doing so would lead our friends back to their time. The play of events has already unfolded for us." He looked sadly to Luke. "If you hope to undo our history, it cannot be."

"But I have to save my father!" Luke protested.

"You have already once. I trust that you can save this Anakin as well." When he looked to Anakin, it was only with longing – the kind that Anakin had never seen before on Obi-Wan's face. Sad and rueful, aware of what he had lost even as he accepted it. "And perhaps keep him. That is a gift."

"And the dead?" Anakin asked. Accused. His voice was rough with anger and his jaw felt tight. "What about the Jedi? The Rebels? Alderaan? Are you really saying there is no way for us to go back, to save them? If I – what's the point of 'saving' me if they are still dead?"

"There are things no one can change," the ghost said.

"I don't believe you." Anakin raised his chin defiantly. "We're here for a reason. And if I am the Chosen One, this has all happened for a reason. I will find a way back to stop them from dying."

Obi-Wan sighed. Anakin was starting to wonder if it was possible to punch a ghost.

"What about me?" Ahsoka asked. She'd followed Anakin's eyeline and squinted at the place the ghost sat. She nudged Anakin in the side.

Anakin shot her a look.

"He can hear you, you know. And he already said he didn't know if you were alive or not." Anakin frowned again toward the ghost. "Wait, what? Why don't you know? You said she didn't contact you during the time of the Empire, but she did survive Order 66?"

"Ugh, never mind that, Master," Ahsoka said. She poked him again. "I want to know why I'm Forceblind."

The ghost examined her critically and, for a moment, Anakin thought he was going to reach out to touch her, but he pulled back.

"I'm not sure. Although I suspect I know the cause for your other friend's problem," he said, glancing over his shoulder to the other Obi-Wan.

Luke looked at him in surprise.

"You mean, you think you're the reason Ben can't touch the Force. But if they're not from our universe shouldn't you, I don't know, feel different? To the Force?"

"You're anthropomorphizing," Anakin told him. "The Force doesn't think or know. It can't tell the difference between us."

"You would say that. You're its favorite," Ahsoka grumbled.

Anakin ignored her and pushed himself to his feet. Now that Luke mentioned it, he wanted to know if he could tell a difference. And maybe – well, maybe punching a ghost wasn't a good idea, but maybe he could find a way to fix Obi-Wan.

"Master, give me your hand," he said, standing between his Obi-Wan and the ghost. Obi-Wan let a fleeting thought about knowing exactly how well Anakin took care of his hands pass through his shields and Anakin raised his eyebrows, waiting for him to take this seriously. Obi-Wan grasped him by the wrist and Anakin held out his other hand to the ghost. "You too."

The ghost did not move. He watched Anakin placidly.

"What, you're just going to hog the Force and leave Obi-Wan blind? For the rest of his life?"

"I do not think this will accomplish much," the ghost said.

"You are his channel to the Force. It's just like a training bond. If he's connected to you, he'll be able to see through you to the Force."

"It has never been done."

That much was obvious. Eventually, the ghost relented. His touch sizzled up Anakin's nerves and he took a moment to steady himself. When he looked into the Force, it was brighter – almost dazzling with the intensity of the connection. He looked over to Obi-Wan and he could see that he felt it too. He looked like a starving man, suddenly offered all he wished to satisfy his hunger.

Well, he definitely couldn't take this away now.

He cocked his head to the side as he searched. The ghost's connection to the Force was broad – broader than any he'd seen. He really was little more than an extension of it. Anakin didn't need that, didn't know what Obi-Wan would even do with it. He looked for the core that made the ghost Obi-Wan, made him individual. It was like searching for one dune against a night darkened sea of sand.

And finally he found it, that spark that was only Obi-Wan, that held itself apart from the rest of the Force so that it may continue to live.

It really did look just like his own Obi-Wan.

Without another thought, he linked the two together, feeling a rush of power course through him. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.

Grinning, he opened his eyes.

The ghost was gone and Obi-Wan lolled back in his seat, unconscious.

Ahsoka sprang to her feet, at Obi-Wan's side in an instant, hand pressed to Obi-Wan's face.

Luke had felt all that Anakin had done, but looked no less disturbed than she did. Anakin didn't dare move, wasn't sure that he wouldn't just make things worse.

"What did you do?" Ahsoka asked.

"I – he's alright. I thought it'd help."

He backed away from them, doubt washing over him. He knew what he was, that he would hurt all the people in the room, and still he acted like he had something to offer them.

Anakin swallowed deeply.

Obi-Wan groaned, eyelids fluttering, before he twitched away from Ahsoka's touch. He looked up at her quizzically as she moved her hands to his shoulders, righting him to sit up straight.

"Are you alright, Master?"

"Can you feel the Force?" Anakin pressed.

Because he was a selfish fool and he still hoped that he hadn't done the wrong thing.

"Indeed, old friend," Obi-Wan said and Anakin felt his heart sink.

It wasn't his Obi-Wan.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, if anyone has forgotten that this is basically id-fuelled crackfic, then I will remind you here. Id-fuelled crackfic. Also, my shipping preferences are showing and my terrible sense of humor.

Obi-Wan watched Anakin's horrified reaction with a kind of measured care. It was nearly overwhelming, the sensation of youth, of solidity, of air and blood and the gravity of the world. Certainly not unpleasant, though he'd become accustomed to the fluidity and serenity of the Force. He felt the draw of it, the clean simplicity of death, yet at the same time he was anchored, as much by Anakin's act as by his own certainty that he was, for the moment, needed here.

In the back of his mind, there was the distinct feeling of affront, the part of himself that took issue with all this ghost business and most certainly didn't appreciate being inhabited by one. Obi-Wan chose to ignore his younger self for the moment. He was sure they would integrate fully, eventually, so he'd either be mad at himself later or entirely comfortable with the idea; regardless, there was no point in feeling conflicted right now.

"This is a good thing," Obi-Wan assured Anakin. "I may better help you this way."

"With the Force?" Ahsoka asked in puzzlement.

Obi-Wan smiled at her. Among his many regrets, one of the most prominent was that he hadn't sought her out during his long exile. He had never felt he was due any comfort in that time, but he could recognize that he had been remiss in not extending it to any other. He didn't even know how she had died, how any of the Jedi killed by Vader or the Inquisitor had died. That too brought him shame, because he knew that avoidant behavior had been nothing but selfish.

"He –" Anakin hissed, twitching his head to the side and flinching physically from the words, "He's not our Obi-Wan. He's the ghost. The one I –"

"The one who has forgiven you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said.

If anything, that made matters worse. Anakin's face screwed up and he tugged the Force around himself, hiding within it like a youngling curled up inside his cloak. He threw himself down onto the couch petulantly and Luke spared him a brief, concerned look before turning back to Obi-Wan.

"So… you're Ben," he concluded. 

Obi-Wan felt his touch in the Force skim over him, curious and careful. Rather than question further, Luke let the matter drop with a mental shrug. He was already becoming well acquainted with the impossible and so this seemed no worse than usual.

"Alright, Master," Ahsoka said after a long beat. "Do not sign me up for that."

Anakin covered his face in his hands. Nothing peeked through his shields in the Force – although Obi-Wan had to say, he did not entirely enjoy being back in a position where shields actually mattered – but everything about his posture bespoke self-loathing and defeat.

"Wasn't planning on it, Snips," Anakin said, voice muffled.

Obi-Wan studied him, feeling a pang of regret in his chest. Anakin looked worn and tired, his shower having done him little good. At some point, he'd retrieved a shirt from his room – one Obi-Wan recognized as that which he'd lent to Padme – and for all that it fit him ridiculously, it made him seem all that much younger. 

Worse still were the emotions bleeding off of Anakin into the Force. For a Jedi, he was quite open and emotive, and yet he did still usually exhibit proper restraint. He'd rarely seen this kind demonstration from Anakin, or dismissed them when he had. For all that he had come to terms with Anakin in the Force, it felt entirely different to be in his presence, to know he had not yet stained his soul with darkness, and to flounder in the face of that potential. There was quite a good reason he had hung his hopes on Luke, he thought. The boy knew far better how to save a soul than Obi-Wan did. Even now, sometimes, he marveled that it had even turned out to be possible.

"It's quite alright," he said awkwardly. He felt the impulse to reach out to Anakin, place hand on his shoulder. But he didn't want to make the wrong move. "I assure you."

"Master, we know that you're alright, but I think it would help Anakin if you could tell us _he's_ alright," Ahsoka said.

"Ah."

In truth, he wasn't entirely sure it was easy to distinguish the parts of his self. But for the memories young Obi-Wan had of this particular adventure, it was quite continuous. Perhaps sharper than his own recollections, but the same otherwise.

There was, however, that insistent, nagging bit of himself that was entirely offended by the goings on. It was not a fleeting feeling, nothing that Obi-Wan felt was within himself. He had long ago made peace with the galaxy, its vagaries and strangeness. Death and acceptance were paired for him, but perhaps they were not suited to this situation. It was a struggle still for Anakin and that desire to fight was within himself as well, though suppressed. He sought that aspect of himself and then blinked rapidly in shock, feeling the sheer immediacy of life return to him.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, hand on his brow as he tried to sort through his emotions – the surge of it pressing down on him in a way he had become unaccustomed to as part of the Force. And very suddenly, things switched and Obi-Wan felt things snap back into focus.

He straightened, a fine crease between his brows as he pushed the ghost to the back of his mind.

"I'm fine, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. Anakin did not move, but there was a subtle shift in his posture. His Force sense changed, the equivalent of animal ears swiveling attentively. "Though I don't entirely appreciate having his memories rattling around in my head."

They were nearly too strong to resist, decades of sorrow haunted by a single day, ash and fire that Obi-Wan felt he could still taste. No, he shoved them away. That was how the ghost, unwittingly, had overwhelmed him the first time. But life was for the living and he was far more acquitted to handle this than his older self, he was absolutely sure of it.

The thought gave him resolve.

The line of Anakin's back went stiff. Obi-Wan could feel conflict in him, fear and a deep self-loathing. He felt carefully along their Force bond, reaching out to Anakin, admonishing as much as assuring.

"You remember?" he asked, voice strained.

"Look at me, Padawan," Obi-Wan said. And after a struggle, Anakin did. His eyes were shadowed, but his posture straightened as he dropped his hands into his lap. If he was going to do this, confront Obi-Wan, he would do so with full commitment. "I remember becoming one with the Force and I remember the moment you joined me. That is what matters."

That Obi-Wan remembered his screams of hatred and pain as well was immaterial. It would not come to pass, not so long as he drew breath.

Anakin, as ever, looked unconvinced.

Luke frowned, head cocked as he looked between them. He could feel the flow of the Force and with some regret, Obi-Wan realized he'd never formed a proper training bond with him. He was on the outside, looking in. For all that he had done for the galaxy and for Anakin, he deserved better than that, Obi-Wan thought.

He opened his mouth to say as much when Luke's comlink chirped. The boy swore softly, prompting an entirely undeserved look of parental disapproval from Anakin, and brought it to his mouth. 

"Skywalker," Luke answered tersely.

"Commander, this is Lieutenant Casher in palace security. We need you to come down to the holding facility," said a tinny, male voice. "It's about your visitors."

Luke's gaze slid over to Anakin who looked defensive immediately.

"I did not kill that guard," Anakin hissed out, too quiet for the comlink to pick up.

"I know," Luke replied. Into the comlink, he asked, "Is there are problem with Sergeant Liu? I was told he was recovering from nerves."

"He is, sir. It's not about the Sergeant. The Princess said that we were supposed to call you if any of our guests tried to leave the palace."

Luke covered his mouth, cringing. Obi-Wan stifled a chuckle. He knew little enough of Leia, but it was not difficult to surmise from the few interactions that he had witnessed that she took entirely after her father and, in a conflict with her mother, that matters may have escalated. If Leia had denied her mother's petition for her wardrobe – a serious offense indeed – it was not hard to imagine Padme deciding to go get it back herself.

"I'll be right down," Luke said.

Anakin stood.

"I'll come with you. If they've arrested Padme, I want to know why."

Obi-Wan had trouble believing that would de-escalate matters any.

"Master, that may not be the best idea. Remember how you woke up yesterday?" Ahsoka asked. She stood and stretched with a long, happy sigh, turning her from side to side and raising her arms over her head. She flashed Anakin a grin. "I'll take care of this. You two can be you two about, you know..."

"Us?" Anakin asked. He settled back on the couch, looking amused, if a bit put out that he was denied the opportunity to rescue his wife.

Obi-Wan rubbed his finger over his mustache, thinking over the word. Yesterday it had been a painful one, evidence of Anakin's reckless indifference to his own Jedi vows. Today it was familiar, decades of thought and self-recrimination on the subject wearing it down. The sting had not entirely left it, but the sight of Luke did a great deal to help him come to terms with even that. Good had come of their union in the form of their children, if nothing else Obi-Wan cared to think of.

"Exactly. And I can get to know your," she dropped her voice, eyes comically large as she uttered the taboo word, "son."

"Thanks," Luke said drily. He held his comlink up once more. "I'll be right down, Lieutenant. Keep our guest company in the meantime.

"Yessir."

Luke raised his eyebrows at Ahsoka and she clapped a hand to his shoulder.

"Lead on, Skyguy Junior."

Obi-Wan smiled as he watched them go out. Anakin caught his eye, grinning. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, proud of both Luke and Ahsoka. Obi-Wan's breath caught at the sight, ache in his chest. Perhaps he would be able to do better by Ahsoka this time.

"Are you sure you're alright, Master?" Anakin asked.

"I'm fine, Anakin."

Anakin shook his head and Obi-Wan stood, taking matters into his own hands. This self-flagellation would get them nowhere. He sat on the couch next to Anakin. It was rough under Obi-Wan's hand as he pressed his hand to Anakin's back, fabric drawn taut across his shoulders. 

It felt odd, Obi-Wan thought. But nice. He couldn't quite place what was different, aside from the almost charming way it did not fit Anakin. It felt of Anakin, for all that it was not his, and Padme, and Obi-Wan found that to be a startling comfort. He dropped his hand to skim down Anakin's back and then away, hem in between his fingers, tugging it away from Anakin's skin.

Anakin tensed and then relaxed. His blue eyes were wide as he stared at Obi-Wan.

"Master?"

"Do I need to repeat myself yet again?" Obi-Wan asked, aggrieved tone only half a joke.

Anakin swallowed deeply. He gave a hesitant shake of his head, but his doubts swirled in the Force.

"I do appreciate," Obi-Wan said, "that you have given the Force back to me."

Anakin's gaze slid to his own hands, metal and flesh, tapping nervously on his knees. Had he a cloak, they would be balled up inside and he would be hiding like a child. Obi-Wan slid his hand back onto Anakin's shoulder.

"And his memories," Anakin said. His voice was steady, even harsh. Accusatory. But in the Force all Obi-Wan could feel was Anakin's fear.

That fear skittered along his nerves, humming in his ears. He didn't know how he'd shut it out for so many years, how he'd missed it the first time. He didn't want to remember, but suddenly the scent of burning flesh filled his nostrils. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, refusing to wilt in the face of his alter's memories. He would contain that old ghost and put all of this to bed – put it to right before it could go so horribly wrong.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said. He waited until Anakin lifted his eyes. "You have given me a chance to redeem myself."

"You – Master! You have nothing to redeem! You're not the one –"

Obi-Wan cut him off with a kiss, shifting on the couch to move closer, one hand moving under his shirt to feel Anakin's warm skin. It really did feel delightful, he thought. There was something almost sensual about the scratch of the fabric against the back of his hand, complementing the way Anakin's mouth opened under his, wet and yielding.

He pulled back suddenly. Somehow he'd moved into Anakin's lap.

"What?" Anakin asked. His voice sounded pleasantly breathless. His cheeks were slightly flushed and all the fear in his eyes had disappeared. He looked entirely shocked, but thrilled to be so.

Obi-Wan felt a mix of undefined emotions knot in his chest. He wasn't entirely sure what had come over him, but he couldn't say it had felt wrong to kiss Anakin. He'd missed Anakin dearly all those years in the desert.

"Where did that come from?" Anakin asked. He hadn't pushed Obi-Wan off him. In fact, his hands had slid up to Obi-Wan's arms, holding him in place. Anakin searched Obi-Wan's face. "Was that… him?"

Obi-Wan glared at him. That was by no means the ghost acting. But it wasn't precisely him either. A sudden flash of insight came to him and he plucked at Anakin's shirt once more. Now that he knew what he was looking for, the Force impressions were quite vivid.

Anakin bit his lip as he followed Obi-Wan's line of thought. An apology flickered in the Force.

"Uh. I can explain."

"I was going to wear that shirt," Obi-Wan snapped. 

***

The rift was visible in space.

Leia stood on the bridge of the Resolute – unwelcome in its familiarity – with Admiral Yularen at her side, hands clasped behind her back as she looked out at the jagged slash that cut through time, shivering and sparking out lightning-like tendrils against the constant swarm of Coruscant's space traffic.

"We have been monitoring it since our arrival," Yularen said stiffly. He handed a datapad to Leia and her eyes flicked over to him. He was barely suppressing an aggrieved expression. "I should say it has taken rather too long for you to discuss this matter with me."

Leia ignored the statement. The first priority for dealing with the Resolute had been containing its crew, not asking their advice about space weather. At the moment, the ship was crewed largely by New Republic forces, its own officers reduced to a skeleton crew with so many confined to quarters or, in the case of the clones, sequestered down on Coruscant as the New Republic tried to wait out this crisis. They'd have to make a decision about them all, it seemed, and soon.

The last thing they needed was a disgruntled battalion deciding to break themselves out and come to their commander's rescue.

"And your assessment?" Han asked. He had his arms crossed, watching the uniformed Republic officers around him with distaste usually reserved for stormtroopers.

Leia skimmed through the document. It was little more than a compilation of sensor readouts, measurements of the rift with no speculation as to what, precisely, it was. 

"It's getting smaller," Yularen stated.

Leia refrained from rolling her eyes.

"That much is clear, Admiral," she said. 

She lowered the datapad to look out the port once more and stretched out in the Force at the same time. Her sense in the Force wasn't particularly honed and this definitely wasn't an application either she or Luke had ever anticipated, but she could feel the draw and the power of the rift nonetheless. The closer she edged, the stronger it was. It may have looked like a storm and ships may have avoided it as if it were a gravity well, but it felt like none of that in the Force. It was full of life, an expression of infinity.

Leia shook herself, physically taking a step back as she pulled her mind away from the rift.

Han looked at her in concern.

"It's getting smaller," she said slowly, staring thoughtfully at the crumpled, cracked space. "In space. But it's infinite, Han. It's the Force and the entire universe on the other side."

"What's that mean, Princess? You don't think it's closing?"

Leia frowned, brow knit as she looked to him silently. She shook her head. She didn't know what it meant. Infinity didn't just stop and the Force didn't put itself beyond reach, but the crack was still getting smaller. She didn't know how to reconcile that, if what she felt in the Force was even meaningful.

"I'll have to talk to Luke," she said eventually.

"I should like to be there," Yularen put in, "when you do."

A muscle twitched in Han's jaw. As difficult as Leia found her parents, apparently Han was having a similar issue being surrounded by Imperials – or future Imperials, in any case.

"Hey, buddy, we've already got plenty of traitors down on Coruscant. You'll stay up here, got it?"

"Traitor?" Yularen asked. There was an expression of deep offense on his face. "I would never betray the Republic, nor would anyone on this ship!"

Leia sighed. Yularen had served the Empire to his last day – dying on the Death Star when it was destroyed, but after lengthy debate, Mon Mothma and the ruling council had decided to withhold that information from the Resolute's crew. They'd sent up an edited version of the holo Leia had shown to her parents. Enough to get the gist of history, to impress on them the reason why the New Republic was being cautious with them, but with no personal information about their own futures.

"You thought that the Empire happened without you? All you officers just quit and called it a day?" Han's tone was snide, his expression set into fake sympathy. He stepped forward, poking a finger into Yularen's chest. "You were the front line, there to enforce the Emperor's will and destroy everything you ever pretended to serve in the Republic."

"Han, that's enough," Leia said, cutting in before Yularen could reply. 

Yularen's face had gone white with rage, hands clenched at his side. He didn't know how to reply to the accusation, but Leia knew from experience that probably just meant he was about to throw a punch. Even stiff and supposedly honorable Imperials debased themselves like regular men when they didn't know how to face their own flaws.

"I should say so. Is this how you've treated the Generals? I can't imagine Skywalker is very appreciative of your hospitality, if I know him at all."

Han snorted and Leia shot him a quelling look.

Yularen got a sly look on his face.

"Nor the Senator. That is why she's up here, isn't it?"

Leia glared at him.

"No," she said. "I can't say either of my parents is thrilled about being here. But at least they aren't putting up the fuss you are."

Not even close to true, but she had far less reason to care about Yularen's prickliness regarding his future than her own parents and it was enjoyable to watch him sputter. His eyes flew wide and he jerked his head to the side, casting a shocked look down the hall, though Padme was several levels down from the bridge.

"Parents?" he asked in scandalized tones. "But – but he's a Jedi!"

Leia smirked at him, stepping closer to him.

"And they're married."

Yularen looked like he was going to choke. In all of her father's many stories about the Clone Wars and the Jedi, Bail had never mentioned the utter taboo it had apparently been for a civilian to sleep with a Jedi, let alone marry one. There wasn't much reason for it to come up, she supposed, except that it explained so much about what had gone wrong to create Vader.

"But if you want to come down to Coruscant," Han added. "I'm sure we could get you a room next to theirs."

Yularen gave him a dirty look and huffed, pulling on his uniform jacket by the hem to straighten it. 

"I suppose I should have seen something like that coming from Skywalker. Although, Senator Amidala…" he trailed off, looking disappointed. He clucked his tongue and shrugged it off. "I always thought she had better taste than that. And to unleash more Skywalkers on the galaxy. What a terrible thought."

Leia bristled at that. Maybe he should meet Luke after all. He'd eat his words.

"Thought you worked with him," Han said.

"And one of him is plenty," Yularen replied curtly. He inclined his head after a moment, admitting, "Though he does get the job done."

"You say that like it's a good thing," Leia muttered.

"Think your mother's about done?" Han asked. "How long can it take to dress?"

Yularen chuckled but said nothing and Leia tried not to look too pained. She'd heard, over the years, about the extraordinarily elaborate sartorial choices of Naboo queens. The Senators she'd encountered hadn't been quite as bad, but Padme was clearly quite interested in making an impression, having gone to these lengths to retrieve her wardrobe. Royal upbringing or no, it wasn't really something Leia relished dealing with herself.

"If you'll excuse us, Admiral," Leia said. She thrust the datapad back at him and he took it unhappily.

"I shall, if I may join you down to the planet. I should like to explain this data personally to the Generals."

Leia turned to leave. Beside her, Han spread his arms wide, half bowing as he backed away.

"We'll consider it. Admiral," he said.

He turned on his heel to stride off the bridge beside Leia.

As they left, she heard Yularen muttering, "I thought she said her name was Organa."

Padme's state room was near the center of the ship, defensible but with a terrible view. Which was to say none whatsoever. The gray walls were oppressive and she could see Han tensing up more and more as they walked them. His reaction had been mirrored on so many of the worlds the Rebellion liberated, up until they finally took Coruscant itself. It was why, even though captured and surrendered Star Destroyers were vital military assets to actually end the Empire, nearly all of them had been slagged in the year since the war's end.

It'd been almost a year since any Star Destroyers had been in New Republic space at all, either in the fleet or as part of an attack from the floundering Imperial Remnant.

"It's eerie," Han said, voicing her thoughts.

Leia nodded in agreement and stopped in front of Padme's room. Baggage had been piled outside it, ready for the droids to take down to the Falcon, but Leia had the strong suspicion that even more luggage awaited. Padme had said she would gather together the Jedi's things first and they lay atop one of her bags, a simple case that contained all the Jedi needed but couldn't carry with them.

She almost wanted to smile at the contrast, but the stress and anger emanating from Han stopped her.

"It's not," she started and then paused, brow furrowing as she looked at him. "It's not any stranger than anything else that is happening right now. But somehow, it's worse."

Han's lips twitched in an ironic half smile.

"You know what I mean."

"I do, Sweetheart. I trained on one of these things."

And here it was, not in its full horror, nothing like that had been produced yet at that point in the Clone Wars, but everything was aligned, set, ready to become fully what would destroy so much. 

"And I wouldn't mind getting out of here," Han added.

Leia sighed. She wasn't at all sure what she felt about her mother at this point. It was obvious that Padme was a woman of deep moral convictions – and even clearer that she was deeply in love with Vader. Her story about how they first met was almost intolerably cute and sweet, right up until Leia remembered exactly who Padme was speaking of. Then it was wrenching, because as much as she could see the Empire in this ship, in the officers still aboard and their brisk gaits, she couldn't see anything of Vader in Anakin when she looked at him.

And it didn't make any sense.

She worried that the more time she spent around Padme, the more she'd see her mother's side, the more she'd be fooled by Vader's lies. Because already she wanted to be.

Leia squared her shoulders, aware that Han was watching. She rapped her knuckles on the door.

"If you have your things, we can get going," she called.

"I'm nearly dressed," Amidala replied. 

Leia and Han exchanged a look.

"Nearly?" he mouthed.

"I'll help move this along," Leia said to him. He nodded and shifted on his feet, torn between expressing his incredible boredom and his still obvious worry for her. "It's fine."

That was enough to provoke a scoff.

"Of course it's fine. You're a princess, she's a queen. Works out nice."

Leia smiled to herself and pressed the control panel, opening the door. It shut swiftly behind her and she did her best not to wince as she stepped into the small room.

It was as well-lit as an Imperial starship ever was, but the gray walls dimmed everything. There was just enough decoration on the walls to indicate these were not military quarters: a Republic seal, a badly composed paint by pixel holo of a waterfall, and bedding in a shade other than gray. Padme sat at a small vanity, more bags arranged on the floor to be taken down to Coruscant.

Padme caught her eye in the vanity, smiling as she worked on pinning her hair back. She'd split it into three plaits, one wound around her head as a crown and decorated with jeweled pins. Two were affixed into coiled buns on the back of her head, and her fingers were working deftly to finish the third. The glittering blue of the jewels matched the voluminous dress she wore. It clung to her back, the bodice jutting up sharply in folds of white fabric that graded into silver and then deep blue. There were no sleeves but a gauzy wrap that wound around Padme's arms instead, though it kept falling into her face as she attempted to finish her hairstyle.

Leia raised her eyebrows at her mother and she gave a shrug, allowing Leia to step in. She took the braid and pins in hand, easily completing the hairstyle as Padme shook out her hands.

"I'm not used to doing these designs on my own," Padme said ruefully.

Which begged the question of why she still did them, but Leia bit her tongue. She went to stand next to Padme, cocking her hip against the vanity.

"Handmaidens?" Leia asked. The Naboo court was considerably more elaborate than Alderaan's and she thought she remembered hearing even the Senators had servants. 

Padme nodded.

"On Coruscant and Naboo. I don't usually bother when I'm on other business, but sometimes it's necessary to make an impression." Padme turned the stool to look directly at Leia. "Ani's learned to braid pretty well."

"Han can undo them," Leia offered. He relished it, in fact, making a mess of her.

"Ani does that too," Padme said. She stood and gestured to the stool. "Your turn."

Leia looked to the closed door where she could feel Han waiting impatiently.

"We should get back to the planet," she replied.

Padme met her eyes and then, with deliberation, walked to the door and opened it. She clearly was not going to indulge Leia's excuses, as obvious as they were to them both.

"Make yourself comfortable," she told Han. He stepped warily into the room to sit on the edge of the bed and Padme pushed Leia firmly down onto the stool. Already her hands were undoing the simple, single braid Leia had pulled her hair back into. Padme spared a glance for Han, advising him calmly, "This will take a moment."

Padme found the brush on the vanity and Leia closed her eyes, heart clenching as she remembered the hundred times her mother had done this for her.

***

Ahsoka clasped her hands behind her back, easily keeping pace with Luke as he navigated through the palace halls. It was much easier to keep up with him than Anakin, she had to admit. It was kind of nice not to be jogging at Skyguy's side and pretending that she didn't need to jog to keep up, that she just liked to.

"So, you're Father's apprentice," Luke started. Ahsoka pulled a face at that and he shrugged a bit. That point had come up – several times – but it wasn't like there was a less awkward way of broaching the topic. "What's that like?"

"If you're asking if I'm going to go dark too, I don't think I will." 

Though she did remember the warnings on Mortis from her future self. She contained an internal shiver at the thought.

Luke laughed and shook his head.

"No, I mean, what's it like? I barely knew him – barely even know what Jedi training is really like."

They came to the end of the hall and a bank of turbolifts where dignitaries were waiting. None wore the overly elaborate garb Ahsoka recalled from the Senate. It seemed that in this new Republic that ascetic tastes were more the norm. So much was in simple black and white – even the plants lining the hall.

A light flashed and the turbolift opened. Luke waved the politicians on, hitting the button again after they'd departed.

"Well," Ahsoka started. She rocked back on her heels, trying to find the word. "It's amazing, actually. Anakin is a great teacher. And I don't just have him – I have Obi-Wan, too. Even Padme, sometimes. I hate the war, but I've learned so much about the Force, about bravery and tactics, just from being out there. And it's a bit of a rush, too, throwing myself into battle and letting the Force guide my lightsabers."

Luke turned to her, curiosity on his face.

"Is training always fighting?"

"No. It's not supposed to be, anyway." She sighed. "But it is, more and more."

"'Wars do not make one great'," he quoted and she nodded. He changed tacks, "How did you become Anakin's apprentice? How did it work in your time?"

The lift arrived, thankfully empty, and they entered it.

Ahsoka gave Luke a sidelong smile.

"Honestly? Master Yoda and Obi-Wan were playing a practical joke on Anakin."

They descended dozens of floors, the transparisteel revealing the glittering landscape of Coruscant beyond. Ahsoka gazed out upon the city as she explained the Temple, the younglings and the Padawans, the rush to get Padawans knighted that saw Anakin's promotion as well as her own. Her eyes marked out the known landmarks – the Senate, still present after all these year, and several of the large buildings housing embassies, even Padme's apartment.

She couldn't see the Temple, anywhere.

Ahsoke trailed off, frowning as she stepped forward, hand on the transparisteel. She looked over her shoulder to Luke and he nodded without her ever asking.

She didn't like this future much.

They arrived in the holding facility, the turbolift doors opening to the scored and pitted halls that Anakin had set off explosions in only the day before. It was a marvel and a horror, to think they'd only arrived yesterday. Luke led her down to one of the many reinforced doors, tapping in a security code to open it.

The cell was divided into a security console and a long, shadowed area with a bench. It was deliberately dim, Ahsoka thought, to give the illusion of night so a prisoner could sleep under a guard's watch.

Lieutenant Casher was quick to greet Luke, but immediately raised his blaster as Ahsoka stepped through the door.

"At ease," Luke snapped.

Ahsoka raised her hands warily as Casher's hands shakily lowered his weapon.

"What –" she started.

A Togruta woman was laying on the long bench. She drew herself up, expression placid as she looked to Ahsoka.

"Pretty much explains it, doesn't it?" the woman asked.

"I don't understand," Casher said blankly. "If the Togruta girl is with you, Commander, who the hell is she?"

Ahsoka – the other one, Ahsoka thought, the other me – stood and planted her hand on her hip.

"I'm Ahsoka Tano," she told the guard. "And I think I'm above your pay grade."

Luke threw Casher a kind look.

"Why don't you go up to our guest's apartment? I think they'll want to get down here." He paused to let Casher scramble out of the room and then unhooked his comlink from his belt. He thumbed it on. "Leia?"

"Wrong again, kid," Han replied.

Luke rolled his eyes.

"Again?" he huffed. "Han, I – never mind, come back down to the palace as soon as you can."

The older Ahsoka looked precisely the same as the apparition on Mortis had – but for the large chip missing from the tip of her right montral and that she wore a holster on her hip instead of lightsabers. She caught Ahsoka looking and nodded.

"It's how I survived."

Ahsoka fought the tears suddenly filling her eyes. She wasn't a Jedi. That's why she wasn't in the Force with Obi-Wan, why she hadn't died with everyone else the way she should have. She wasn't even a Jedi.

"Don't," the woman whispered. She stepped forward and brushed the tears from Ahsoka's face, Ahsoka covered her mouth, trying not to cry openly. Her older self shook her by the shoulders, glaring down at her. "Don't. You didn't fail. Don't ever think you did. I have done that more than enough for the both of us."

"I can't feel the Force – because of you, because you're still here!" 

That made a dent. She looked surprised and sad at the same time, touch trying to soothe away Ahsoka's emotions. She knocked her older self's hands away in anger.

"And when I get home – it's all for nothing." She looked at her older self, vision blurry, voice thick with emotion. "What did you do? What am I going to do?"

The other Ahsoka looked at her, pain visible on her face.

"You'll be framed for murder by your best friend and everyone will turn on you. You'll lose hope in the Jedi and yourself. That's why you'll walk away. "

Ahsoka dragged her eyes away from her older self, looking desperately to Luke.

"Did you..." He shook his head. Of course not, he hadn't even known who she was before today. She forced a calm she did not feel, eyes on the grated floor as she asked, "Everyone?"

The other reached out to her again.

"No," she said. Her smile was rueful when Ahsoka looked up. "Not everyone. Anakin never stopped believing in me."

Her words shook Ahsoka. The woman brushed her tears from her cheeks kindly, folding her into a gentle hug. Her fingers ran over Ahsoka's montrals – soothing and intimate and strange. Ahsoka returned the gesture after a moment, reaching up to touch against the broken montral of her older self. She turned away from it, as Ahsoka herself would. Of course she would, she did, it was her own self she was thinking of! She tried not to laugh hysterically at the thought.

Luke cleared his throat and they broke apart.

"Maybe we should continue this reunion upstairs." He gestured to the depressing lighting of the cell. "Where we can talk."

The older Ahsoka tilted her head to the side and smirked while Ahsoka nodded gratefully to him. She found this place disquieting, being in a prison cell. If it was her future, she didn't want another moment in one.

"I should tell Casher not to bring them down after all," Luke said. He reached for his comlink, but the older Ahsoka held out her hand.

"I'll tell them – Skyguy's in for quite a shock," she said.

Luke rolled his eyes at his own forgetfulness as she reached out to Anakin in the Force; Ahsoka violently pushed aside her jealousy. If the price of the Force was memories of all that had passed to create this future – including her own betrayal by the Jedi Order – she really wasn't interested. The message apparently sent, she reached for the control of the cell door and led the way out. 

A few of the guards were gathered in the hall for a caf break. They craned their necks as the group passed back to the turbolifts, not quite gawking. Ahsoka shot them a quick look of irritation, but that was enough to fuel even more furious whispers as soon as she turned her back.

"You're big news around here," Luke explained. "Sorry about that."

Ahsoka sighed and her older self just looked amused.

"I don't know what you expected. You are the time traveling apprentice of Darth Vader himself."

"You know?" Ahsoka asked. She stopped several meters back from the lifts and then forced herself to catch up when they passed by her. She took the other Ahsoka by the elbow, demanding this time, "You know?"

"It's not a secret. We actually needed to tell everyone, to end the war," Luke explained.

"And claim your throne," the other Ahsoka said.

Luke looked sheepish. Ahsoka suspected he'd had to defend this particular action frequently.

"We gave it back."

Well, that was... Ahsoka wasn't even sure. It was somewhere between funny and appalling. She could easily see Leia at a coronation. She was a princess after all. But all she could envision for Luke was a kind of fidgety awkwardness, maybe even laced with an apologetic air for all the pomp of a royal court. She wondered if there were holos, or if it had just come down to a line on a piece of paper, signed and then annulled. It probably had been that simple, but she liked her version better.

All of that was beside the point, though.

"But did you know," Ahsoka asked. "Before?"

She met Ahsoka's eyes slowly, biting at her lip before answering.

"I suspected."

And he was the only Jedi who hadn't betrayed her. Hadn't abandoned her. Ahsoka could never mistake the affection, the trust, in her own voice. For everything Anakin had become, Ahsoka never came to hate him.

The turbolift arrived, filled with the last people Ahsoka wanted to see. She wrapped her arms around herself, stepping away just as Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Casher exited the lift.

Anakin and Obi-Wan stood oddly distant from each other, both staring at the older Ahsoka. Anakin dragged his eyes away from her long enough to look at Ahsoka and then back again. Obi-Wan covered his mouth with his hand, looking somewhat regretful.

Of course, Ahsoka though angrily. He was the old Obi-Wan now. He remembered what he'd done – or hadn't.

"I … well, that explains that," Anakin said after a moment.

The older Ahsoka grinned.

"It's good to see you again."

Anakin's eyes went soft.

"It's very good, Snips. I'm glad, well, I'm glad I didn't kill you."

Her laugh was a loud crack against the black and white walls of the palace and then she was throwing herself into Anakin's arms, pressing her cheek against his. She was nearly as tall as him, Ahsoka thought sourly. She couldn't decide if she was jealous or not, angry or not. She certainly didn't want the life laid out before her, but there was a strange kind of serenity to this woman, acceptance both of her fate and the galaxy's.

Forgiveness that Ahsoka could barely believe she'd be capable of in the future.

"And I'm glad I've got a second chance," the other Ahsoka murmured. She pulled back slowly, skin against skin before she drew Anakin into a deep kiss, fingers light on his face.

"Whoa! Whoa! Not okay!" Ahsoka shouted.

Anakin all but panicked, pulling away even as he grabbed the other Ahsoka by her upper arms, prying her off of him. She shrugged lightly, completely unaffected by his horror.

"Padme is here too, isn't she?" adult Ahsoka asked. She didn't sound disappointed, which Ahsoka couldn't even figure out because – actually, she just stopped trying. The future was crazy.

"Yes. She is. And we're married. If you didn't know," Anakin said harshly. He narrowed his eyes at her and then immediately swung around to glare at Ahsoka. "You better explain yourself right now."

"Me? I didn't do anything, Master!" 

Anakin blinked rapidly, plainly disbelieving. He set his fist on his hips as he waited.

"I –" Ahsoka found her footing, focusing on her anger. He was accusing her when it was her dumb future self that had kissed him. It was utterly unfair. "I do not have a crush on you. I know you!"

"Oh, really? Because I think I have reason to think otherwise!"

"Master!"

He raised one hand, pointing in her face.

"When we get home, you are grounded. You are going to sit in your room and think about what you will have done, Padawan!"

"Well! Same to you!"

"Isn't the Master-Padawan relationship basically parental?" Luke put in. He sounded incredibly amused but when Ahsoka looked to him, there was nothing but innocent curiosity on his face. She didn't buy it for one second.

"No," Anakin said far too quickly.

Ahsoka gave him a weird look. She wished her Force bond with him was intact because he would be getting the loudest "Since when?" in history.

"Definitely not," Obi-Wan agreed.

"That would be –"

Obi-Wan plowed over Anakin's words, "We simply don't see things in those terms, Luke."

"And Anakin's not that much older than me, anyway," the other Ahsoka explained. "More like an older brother, really."

From the threshold of the lift, back to its glossy, closed doors, Casher stepped forward. He raised his hand, as if asking permission to speak.

"But... that would still be incest," he said slowly.

"Alright," Luke said. He seized Casher by his shoulders. "I think you are needed back at your post."

Casher twisted around to look at Luke, disappointed to be excluded from what was clearly the most interesting thing to happen at the palace in a very long time. Luke didn't yield one bit and Casher plodded his way back to the guard station within the cell he'd held the older Ahsoka in. He gave a final look to the assembled group before the cell door slid shut in front of him.

"I am quite pleased to see you, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan said, drawing attention back to the matter at hand. "But how is it that you knew to come here?"

She squared her shoulders and leveled an annoyed look at him, as if it should have been obvious.

"I had a vision."

"A vision that you needed to kiss me?" Anakin asked. He still looked disgusted and kept shooting annoyed looks at Ahsoka herself. She was definitely going to have a word with her older self about this.

"You're going to have to let that go," Obi-Wan advised Anakin. 

He put a calming hand on Anakin's shoulder, fingers rubbing at the material of Anakin's ill-fitting shirt. It was enough to make Anakin's eyes go wide. He must have communicated something to Obi-Wan, because the other man immediately dropped his hand as if burned, chagrinned expression on his face.

"No, Master," Ahsoka said. She folded her arms in front of her chest. "I had a vision about the rift – we have to close it, before anything else comes through."


	7. Chapter 7

"Grub's getting cold," Fives said.

He sat on the bunk opposite Rex, back to the wall and half leaned over where Tup was slicing into the facility's security grid. Or, at least, where he'd pulled out a mess of wires and been fussing with them for a day and a half now.

"Almost got it."

"You almost got it yesterday night, soldier," Rex said harshly. He tapped his fork on the edge of his own tray; he'd finished not long after the food was wheeled in. About half their squad was currently dismantling the droid-cart for interesting parts and makeshift weapons, but they'd at least eaten before descending on it. "Put the tools down and eat. Gotta keep your strength up for when the Generals make their move."

"Knowing them, could be any minute now," Five said.

"Which means…" Tup grunted. He wedged a tool into a black box connecting multiple wires, twisting hard as he tried to pry it apart. "That I don't need to keep my strength up."

"That was an order," Rex snapped.

Tup sighed, hands falling into his lap as he frowned.

"Yessir."

Rex nodded in satisfaction as Fives reached out one hand, hauling Tup up onto his bunk. Tup bent over his tray as he ate – it was long past cold – glower on his face as he did.

Their accommodations weren't the worst. Better than the Resolute, to be honest, especially during some of their ranker deployments. Sleeping in shifts before going planetside didn't leave a whole lot of time for cleanliness, of their armor or bodies. The bunks ended up half blackened on some of the worse ones, but at least the ship tinnies more or less took care of it.

This block of barracks was a whole different thing. Not sterile and clean, and definitely not with that homey white sheen that called back to Kamino. But unlived in. Dusted out and made ready for the troops, but nothing that had seen heavy use in a long time.

Rex was one of the few that'd been conscious when they were hauled in. Realspace had been a jolt when they reverted, knocking half his brothers flat and the hostiles boarding not much better, ready with gas and stun bolts to subdue most of the ship before they even knew what hit them. Rex could have sworn he saw Coruscant through the ports while they tussled, but it was impossible to say for sure – beyond that it didn't feel like Sep territory and he knew the General well enough to be sure he could plot them home.

He'd walked into the barracks under his own power, alert for any opportunity for escape, eyes sharp as they tried to note every detail. There wasn't a lot on display: old Republic symbols on walls, sloppily painted over. Didn't know what to make of that, filed it away. Corridors upon corridors, laid out in a grid. Not defensible in the least and not meant to be.

This place, whatever it was, it wasn't a prison, for all that even their windows had be blanked and they'd seen nothing of their officers since arriving. It'd been built by an army and he was pretty sure it'd been built for them specifically.

Rex hadn't told the boys yet, because he'd found one more thing.

He'd felt it in the crossbeam just above his bunk, carved into the durasteel with a flashwelder sometime long ago, but worn smooth by touch: CT-66790001. Too many digits. Way too many digits.

It was a downright unsettling feeling, being in the future. He just hoped the Generals got them out of here before the rest of the 501st had to be told. They'd a war to win, after all, and Rex didn't figure knowing the end result would be all that good for morale.

"What do you think they're doing with 'em?" Tup asked between bites.

He was looking out toward the door, on the far end of the barracks. The 501st had taken up only a small fraction of the beds in the room, on what Rex figured was the north wall, half way between the doors. It was far enough back that their captors couldn't sneak up, packed in tight so no one could just get disappeared at night. Still wasn't ideal, Rex thought. If they were monitoring the clones, and he was certain they were, putting themselves in the middle of the barracks just made it more obvious what they were up to. But no one had come in to put a stop to Tup's fiddling or to shake down the clones making knives from the droid-cart.

There'd be some kind of reckoning soon enough, but he hoped the Negotiator was living up to his name in the meantime.

"Knowing the General, nothing these guys are going to like." Fives and Tup both chuckled. "But that doesn't mean we just sit around and wait. Honesty, Tup: what's the status with the doors?"

Tup dropped his fork onto his tray with a clatter and shoved the whole mess of things at Fives who mustered a friendly glare before putting it on the floor on the other side of the bunk. Tup rubbed his hand over his face and shrugged.

"It's nothing I've ever seen, Captain. It's obvious the tech makes sense – maybe isn't even top of the line, since I saw a bunch of shorts in there – but it's just not set up how we'd do things." He raised his hand, forestalling the obvious question, "Or the Seppies."

The three shared a look. Right about now, General Skywalker's little astrodroid would come in handy – or any of the Jedi themselves. Course, they'd just be cutting through the doors instead of trying to hot wire them, but that was neither here nor there.

"Sir!" Hardcase shouted from the edge of what passed for their camp. "Someone's coming in – and I don't think it's the lunch lady."

Rex stood, swiftly striding to where Hardcase and a handful of other clones had already taken up positions. Hardcase had a shiv half hidden behind his back and Rex gave him a slight shake of the head. They weren't prepared to make their move yet. He wanted to get a least one decent conversation in with one of their captors before attacking – well, that or another day of boredom. He wasn't willing to wait them out if they weren't ever going to get in a talking mood.

And, at minimum, he wanted a chance to think through the implications of probably being in the future before breaking the news. Their abilities to navigate Coruscant could be severely hampered by the changes the planet had undergone and he wanted to prepare the troops for that idea.

The doors down the rows of bunks snapped open and the men shifted, relaxing as the Generals entered. Some of the boys hollered at Skywalker and asked what this put on had been about. Skywalker, Kenobi, and Tano were accompanied by two others – another Jedi, though he looked nothing like it beyond the 'saber on his hip, and a tall Togruta woman who could have passed for the Commander's mother.

The formed up as the Generals drew to a halt in front of them. Rex immediately noticed several things off about them. Most obviously, Skywalker did not have his lightsaber. He stood apart from the others in a way that seemed unnatural, closer to the young Jedi wearing black than to Kenobi. And Rex didn't even know what to make of that shirt he was wearing. He'd thought Skywalker knew how to get clothes that fit.

Tano and Kenobi seemed uncomfortable as well, but whatever was wrong with them was much harder to pin down than with Skywalker. Tano kept shooting annoyed looks to the Togruta woman whereas Kenobi simply... he didn't look like himself. But he looked more like himself in some ways. Rex shook off the thought as irrelevant. He'd find out soon enough.

He saluted briskly and the troops followed suit, armor clapping together synchronously as they snapped to attention.

"Sir," Rex said.

"At ease," Skywalker told him. He quirked his eyebrows to Rex. "You holding up alright?"

"Fine, sir. Bit bored."

Skywalker planted his fists on his hips and then leaned to the side, catching sight of Tup's little foray into slicing. He straightened, looking entirely amused.

"I'm disappointed. I would have thought you'd have mounted a rescue mission by now."

He could hear Tup muttering behind him. He'd been trying, honest, he just didn't have the right tools.

"Is it that you just don't like me that much?" Skywalker asked, eyes wide.

Rex kept a completely straight face, meeting Skywalker's gaze squarely and then looking past him to the others. Tano was doing a poor job of suppressing a snicker.

"Yessir. That's it exactly."

Skywalker grinned and threw an arm around him. He tipped his head close to Rex's, saying in an undertone, "I'll show you how to slice the doors later."

"If you are finished, Anakin?" Kenobi asked with an indulgent sigh.

"Time may be short," the Togruta woman put in.

Skywalker nodded and released Rex, moving to stand between the troops and the newcomers. He placed one arm behind his back, hand on his chin as he spoke.

"We may not have time to fully explain, but I'll try to cover the basics. Hopefully you all remember our last encounter with Grievous. While we were making out escape, he managed to get a hit in on our engines, cracking our hyperdrive right before the jump out. I did my best to hold it together using the Force and, as it turns out, that had an unintended side effect."

"What he means," Tano said, "is that he ripped time and space apart, throwing us about twenty five years into the future."

Skywalker shot a quick glare before looking over the men as if daring them to criticize him for that. Rex cocked his head to the side.

"Pretty much what I'd figured, sir."

It was enough to quell the murmuring that had started behind him. He could feel Tup and Fives staring at his back. He'd been in their company the entire time and hadn't mentioned his theory once.

"Good. We've gotten permission to move everyone back up to the Resolute. Be ready for anything once you are up there because intel reports that something might try to come through the space-time rift."

Rex nodded as if that made sense.

"We shall also ask that you try not to question the present too much," Kenobi put in. There was a strange look in his eyes, older and wiser than he looked even at his Jedi best. It made Rex straighten even further, aware that Kenobi's words spoke to something of greater importance than just one mission. "I know that is a difficult thing to ask, but we are hoping to return to our own time through that same rift."

And, Rex presumed, they didn't want to disrupt present too much. Seemed like things had turned out alright, from the little he'd seen.

Skywalker squinted slightly at Kenobi with an expression that meant he was about to do the exact opposite of that order.

"On that note," Skywalker gestured to the young Jedi in black. Rex wasn't entirely sure why he thought of the man that way – he looked no younger than Skywalker. Experience, he decided, and confidence. Skywalker often passed for much older than he was because he all but bled confidence. "I'd like to introduce my son, Luke Skywalker, and you boys already know Ahsoka."

Rex did a double take.

"What?"

The woman did look a lot like Tano. He'd noticed as much when she walked in, but now that Rex looked again, it was even more obvious. From her markings to her posture, she was in every way identical to Commander Tano. Just... taller. And more mature.

She smiled at him.

"It's been a while, Rex," she said.

His Commander Tano – that is, the _young_ one – frowned deeply and poked the woman in the side.

"He is ten," she hissed out. "Don't get any ideas."

Rex opened his mouth and shut it before looking to Skywalker. The elder. Actually, he wasn't even sure if the General was older than his son or not. He felt a headache coming on.

Skywalker shook his head.

"Don't ask," he advised.

Rex wasn't sure what he wasn't supposed to ask since, really, there were so many kriffing possibilities now. He chanced a look over his shoulder, hoping that his troops were no worse off than him. He'd had a little time to adjust to the thought of time travel, but it was still throwing him for a loop.

For the most part, they seemed annoyed by the sudden weirdness thrust into their lives, but no more likely to contemplate the cosmic ramifications of what was going on than usual, which was comforting to see. Rex turned back to Skywalker.

And really, he had to.

"Son?"

Everyone sighed heavily.

* * *

 

"And now I'm saying to offload it!" Han shouted up the ramp. His hand was clasped around one of the hydraulics of the Falcon's ramp, the other gesturing angrily at his Wookiee friend on the ship.

Chewbacca's disgruntled howls echoed into the landing bay. Padme smiled, looking over to Leia and found her daughter shading her eyes in embarrassment.

"They do this often?" she asked.

Leia rolled her eyes.

"You have no idea."

She thought she did. She didn't often actually get to see Anakin and Obi-Wan in the field, but she'd nonetheless seen her share of bickering over the years.

"What're you whining about, you big oaf?" Han yelled. "It's just clothes!"

And, to be fair, a decent amount of jewelry. She'd been accompanying the fleet on a diplomatic venture, after all, and needed more than just dresses to make an impression. With the gems counted in, she supposed at least one of her suitcases could count as a "box of rocks", just as Chewie was apparently claiming.

Leia cupped her hand around her mouth.

"Han, hurry it up. The message said urgent."

It had, although Padme was well aware that Jedi tossed that word around to harry politicians into acting more quickly with alarming frequency. Their reputation as calm and deliberative was entirely unearned, in her opinion. If the situation back on Coruscant were truly an emergency, Anakin would have either stolen a ship and come up to the Resolute personally, or used a little more detail in the transmission. As it was, "Something's up, come back down here. Urgent," didn't actually explain a great deal.

Obi-Wan's message that came soon after had clarified only somewhat. He'd communicated that the something in question appeared to be the time-space rift and they needed to discuss what to do about it, quickly, if at all possible.

Which led, rather spectacularly, to the conclusion that they might be going home and then Han hurrying to offload Padme's clothes since he'd gotten the impression, somehow, that she'd be upset to lose them to the future if they abruptly returned back to the past and her clothes were still in the palace.

"Han!"

"You hear that! You're upsetting Her Highness!" He twisted to look at Padme, realization on his face, and then whipped back around to stalk up the gangplank. "Both Highnesses!"

Leia sighed and looked to Padme ruefully.

"They'll get the luggage back off eventually. We might as well board."

"If nothing else, we can always steal it and pilot it down while they're arguing about who carries what," Padme said.

She wound her arm through Leia's, smiling at her as she led her into the ship.

"I don't think you want to try that with this bucket," Leia said. She skimmed her fingers along the hatch as they entered the ship and showed the grime to Padme, who blinked indifferently. The Twilight was hardly better off. "Besides, Han is very particular about who pilots the Falcon."

Han managed to break off his argument with Chewie long enough to shoot Leia an affectionate, exasperated look.

"That's just because Lando doesn't know how to treat a lady like the Falcon. Doesn't include you, sweetheart."

"I'm honored," Leia said drily.

Han turned and threw a gracious bow her way before Chewie howled again and he bent fully, grumbling as he picked up one of Padme's suitcases. Padme gave him a small, apologetic shrug but he waved it off. He'd told her earlier that, no offense, he hadn't been entirely comfortable planning on the in laws sticking around long term, so he was pretty much fine with making it as easy as possible for them to go home. Even if he still didn't believe it was possible.

Leia guided Padme into the common area and they sat at the holochess table. Padme folded her hands on it and looked at her chipped thumbnail, worrying it against her other thumb. She'd barely had time to get dressed, let alone fix her manicure. She supposed that was something Dorme or Teckla could handle on Coruscant when she returned.

She swallowed convulsively against the thought, pushing away the desire to hunch under its weight.

"Mother?" Leia asked. She placed her hand on Padme's shoulder, frowning as she leaned in. "Are you alright?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to go back," Padme admitted.

Leia's brown eyes searched her face and she nodded. She wouldn't say anything more than what she had – but she didn't need to. She had just said the word aloud, called Padme her mother by reflex, without sarcasm or biting intent. She wasn't sure if she was ready to lose her mother, again, any more than Padme was ready to lose her children.

That was a lie.

Padme shut her eyes and let Leia wrap her arms around her. That wasn't what she was afraid of at all. She liked Leia well enough, wished dearly to get to know her and Luke. But she didn't get attached quite that easily and she had been aware, this entire time, of the flaws of the future. Each one she noted down mentally, another change to make, another mistake to avoid.

Truthfully, she was terrified of who she would be when she returned to her time. Because she loved her husband and she had always known what he was capable of. It had never once compelled her to try to change him.

An astromech beeped at them inquisitively.

"Yes, Artoo, we're secure enough," Leia said irritably.

Padme opened her eyes with a frown. She placed her hand on Leia's arm, squeezing gently in thanks, before moving out of the embrace.

"Artoo?" she asked.

And it was him. She should have guessed after finding Threepio in Leia's quarters. She still had no explanation for that, but that had seemed like coincidence enough. The little droid trundled across the common room floor, treads noisy, and swiveled his dome to look at her. He made a startled beep and rolled back several paces.

"So you do recognize me!" Padme exclaimed. She slid from the bench to kneel in front of Artoo, hand out to beckon him forward. "Were you hiding during the entire trip up here?"

Artoo tweeted something long. It sounded sad and shy, but Padme would need someone to translate for her. She'd had Artoo for a long time before lending him to Anakin, but she'd never quite gotten the knack of binary. She'd joked with Anakin that it took a more mechanical mind than hers; she fared better with Ancient Naboo and the Rodian Uncle Ono had taught her.

"I don't know why you thought so, Artoo. I'm not angry at you."

His light flickered and Padme grinned, reaching out to pat him fondly.

"Well, I am," Leia said. Padme looked up to find her daughter glaring at the droid, arms crossed. "You knew. You knew this entire time!"

Artoo looked between them and instantly put his treads into reverse to skid out of the room.

"Please tell me Vader didn't build him too," Leia said. She sat back down, hand to her forehead as she leaned on the holochess table.

"Of course not. He was a droid on my royal starship and saved us all during the blockade run." Padme paused thoughtfully. "You wouldn't have been born, if not for him."

Leia didn't seem impressed by that. She shook her head slowly in disbelief.

"He knew Luke and I were related all along."

"Would you have believed a droid?" Padme asked curiously.

From what they said about their lives, she wasn't quite sure why they actually did believe they were related when they found out – beyond the Force, she supposed. She felt an odd and sudden twist of jealousy at the thought. Everyone in her life was Force sensitive except for her.

"I don't know," Leia said. She frowned in the direction Artoo had retreated. "But he should have said something! At least before I –"

She cut off suddenly with a furtive look to Padme, who wondered idly what that was about.

Padme straightened thoughtfully as she looked too the way Artoo had gone. With Yularen coming down to Coruscant with them, though thankfully on a separate transport, there wouldn't be any of their own crew left to monitor the rift while they were discussing matters. She did trust the New Republic, but they'd done more than enough to show it wasn't a two way street and she really did want to keep an eye on things, if at all possible. Much as her stomach knotted at the idea of returning home, she knew she had a duty to try.

For Alderaan and Bail, for the Jedi, and for her own children.

* * *

Anakin swung Padme in his arms, settling her back onto the hangar floor for a long, exuberant kiss. She broke off with a laugh, blush on her cheek. Her hands stayed on his chest, flexing into the fabric – and, alright, maybe he wouldn't burn this shirt after all.

"It was only a couple of hours, Ani," she said.

"Too long," he replied, entirely meaning it. A whole lot of crazy stuff had happened while she was gone. Some of it wasn't even his fault.

Padme peered past him to the assembled group – both Ahsokas, Luke, Obi-Wan, and Rex as well as Leia, Han, and Chewbacca – before looking back up at him, eyebrows raised in amusement.

"So I see. I left for breakfast and you broke your troops out while I was gone and – is that you, Ahsoka?"

Anakin opened his mouth to protest that he hadn't broken anyone out of anywhere. Luke had secured permission from Mon Mothma. But Padme's attention was drawn entirely to Ahsoka and, Anakin admitted, that was fair enough.

Padme stepped away from Anakin, surprise written all over her features. That Ahsoka was alive was one of the few good things he'd found out in this future, even if her fate was still unsettling. His stomach knotted at the thought of Ahsoka before the Council, humbled and shamed the way he always felt, hung her out to dry out of political cowardice. And only saved from his own betrayal by the Council's.

"It's good to see you, Padme," Ahsoka said. She shook her head, wry and disbelieving. "I never thought –"

"I know."

She cut Ahsoka off, drawing her into a hug. Where before she'd always needed to turn her head, allowing for Ahsoka's montrals, now Padme was only just tall enough to get her chin over Ahsoka's shoulder.

"Don't get any ideas, Snips," Anakin called.

Ahsoka pulled out of the embrace long enough to roll her eyes at him.

"First Rex, now Padme. I do have self-control, you know," she said.

Anakin crossed his arms.

"Then why did you kiss me?"

Padme startled and backed away, squinting up at her before shooting their Ahsoka a look. She immediately buried her head in her hands, complaining that it was unfair to get the blame again.

"I used to," Ahsoka emphasized, "have a crush on you."

"But not Padme?" Anakin demanded. That was actually pretty offensive. If she was going to be crushing on anyone, Padme was clearly the superior choice.

Ahsoka pulled a face at him that made her look all of fourteen again.

"Regardless," Obi-Wan interceded with a sigh, "I think it's well past time that we made some plans regarding our future. By which I obviously mean our past."

"Funny," Anakin replied.

"I thought so."

At least that much seemed to have normalized. Obi-Wan still felt wrong in the Force, but his terrible sense of humor had been preserved and he seemed more at ease with himself. Definitely less angry at Anakin as well, though he hadn't been able to tell if that was a result of being inhabited by a ghost constituting a major distraction, or because the ghost actually had some wisdom to offer on the subject. For the moment, Anakin was content to take it.

However…

"Actually, I think we should talk." Obi-Wan gave him an exasperated look and Anakin circled his hand to include just him and Padme. "The three of us. The rest of you should meet with Yularen and Mon Mothma. Snipses, fill them in on the vision and what we know."

"Wait, how come I'm not part of your talk?" his Ahsoka complained, hands on her hips. "I'm going home with you too!"

"Because," Anakin said stiffly.

"I did bring all of your clothes down, Ani," Padme reminded him. "She could come back to the suite with us so you can all change."

"A little hardship is good for a Padawan," Anakin argued. Ahsoka's jaw dropped, hackles raised in the Force. He raised his hand calmingly. "Fine, Snips, you're with us. Other Snips, you're with them."

Leia caught his eye as Luke shepherded the group out.

"You've got half an hour," she said.

Her expression was skeptical, though not as hostile as the previous day and when he nodded to her, some of the tension eased. He didn't suppose he'd get anything better from her before they left, but she'd warmed to Padme, at least.

Anakin made good on his word, hustling Padme, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka up to the suite as quickly as the palace elevators would allow. He drew a look from his apprentice as he tugged Padme toward their bedroom.

"I want time to change properly and Padme is going to help," he told Ahsoka and she scoffed, disgust at the blatant lie plain on her face.

"Whatever, Master. Just try to get presentable again before the meeting."

Ahsoka's expression was absolutely worth it when he reached out and snagged Obi-Wan as well, closing the door in her face.

Padme sat on the bed and crossed her legs primly, smoothing her skirts as she put her hands on her knees. It was definitely one of Anakin's top five dresses for her, at the moment. The ranking was ever evolving, between the attrition rate her clothes went through and her tailor's delight in designing more for her.

"I take it we actually are talking, then?"

Anakin looked down at where his hand was knotted in Obi-Wan's tunics, resisting the temptation to flatten it and touch Obi-Wan for real. There was a sparkle of good humor in Obi-Wan's eyes – of the ghost's good humor, his distant and odd amusement at living people and their desires. Anakin dropped his hand immediately, glaring at Obi-Wan until the ghost went away.

He moved to lean against the dresser, arms crossed.

"Yes. There are some things we need to talk about before we go back."

"If," Obi-Wan said. "If we go back."

Anakin clenched his jaw. He didn't care how many times Obi-Wan and the others told him that going home wasn't an option. If something else could still come through that damned rift, he didn't see any reason they couldn't go back. There was just no purpose to coming here if it wasn't going to change anything about his future.

"Obi-Wan…"

"I am saying what I know, Anakin." And here he seemed to peer almost through Anakin. He shivered at the incredible clarity and power of Obi-Wan's presence in the Force, but refused to shield himself. He and Obi-Wan were well beyond that kind of thing. "I learned a great deal from Qui-Gon and even more within the Force. Time flows in one direction alone. That we have jumped forward substantially does not change that there is no going back."

Anakin felt Padme's curiosity and dragged his attention away from Obi-Wan. Her delicate features had an expression of confusion on them, brows knit and slight frown on her mouth.

He pushed away from the dresser and took her hands, sitting next to her on the bed.

"I did something while you were with Leia," Anakin said. "And it's a little complicated, but—"

"He gave the Force back to me as well as all my memories."

"Your memories?"

Anakin winced.

"He's – uh, he's dead. He's also the dead Obi-Wan now. Uh. Sorry?"

"I don't know what you're apologizing to her for, Anakin. I'm the one with a ghost in my head."

"You seemed fine with it just a minute ago!" Anakin snapped. He turned back to Padme with some trepidation. She put her hand on his face, trying to smooth away the worry tightening his expression and he turned into the touch, kissing her fingertips. He met her eyes steadily. "There's something else. A kiss."

Padme broke into a smile.

"I know, Ani, I was there when you were yelling at Ahsoka." Anakin shook his head incrementally and Padme's smile faded. She cocked her head to the side suddenly and then turned to look at Obi-Wan. " _You_ kissed?"

Obi-Wan gave her a mild look, entirely unapologetic.

"You kissed my husband," Padme repeated. She let go of Anakin and stood, hands in her skirts as she marched furiously over to Obi-Wan. "I thought Jedi didn't have attachments. I thought you didn't approve of _any_ of this!"

"To be honest, my lady, it was a shock to me as well."

Padme turned to give Anakin a look.

"By which I mean, I was surprised that I did it," Obi-Wan said. He turned Padme back to look at him and she eyed his hand in suspicion. "Not that Anakin initiated it. However, I can't say that I regret it. Or that I would not do it again."

"You said yesterday that vows mean a great deal to the Jedi," Padme said in a low tone. Her expression was fixed, dark eyes impossible to read, even when Anakin shifted to get a better look. Her anger pulsed in the Force, alongside a strange kind of hope. "Is that just his vows? His vows to you?"

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and looked past her, to Anakin. His gray eyes were solemn. He looked like neither the ghost nor Anakin's Obi-Wan. He looked like nothing Anakin had seen before, but whole for all of that.

"I was raised my entire life as a Jedi. I have memories of no other life. And the Jedi Order of your time teaches that attachment, in love or in friendship, is a path to the Dark Side."

Padme nodded stiffly. Anakin felt fear coil in his chest; that was his own path and he still couldn't bear to step off it.

Obi-Wan sighed.

"And that Jedi Order is incorrect. What young Luke did, it was not only amazing, but it was inconceivable. I have never believed in redemption, my lady. To go Dark is to die, to be lost forever to the Light and to the Jedi. But Luke turned Anakin back and he was by my side in the Force.

"I realized that love was hardly a sin – though the Order had many. But perhaps the worst was martyring itself to avoid the only thing which _is_ a grace.

"So, no, I mean no disrespect to Anakin's vows to you, Padme, nor yours to him. I only wish to tell you that I love him as well and that I am beyond regretting that."

Padme stared at Obi-Wan a long moment. Anakin could feel the rapid fire of emotions from her, surprise and fear and elation. It was almost enough to pull him along in her wake, to feel the same relief she did.

Almost.

He stood and strode forward, looming over Obi-Wan, who appeared entirely unfazed by Anakin's reaction.

"You love me?" Anakin asked. He shook his head in disbelief, trying not to laugh. His voice cracked on the words, "Since _when_?"

"For a very long time. Too long."

Anakin clenched his jaw as he glared.

"So, before you left me to burn to death?"

"Ani!" Padme put her hand on his arm and he forced himself to shake it off.

"Not that I didn't deserve it." Anakin swallowed as he looked between Padme and Obi-Wan. "You know that, both of you do. And you're still … what is _wrong_ with you?"

"None of that is going to happen Anakin," Padme said. Her voice was forceful and this time she didn't let him move away. She laced her fingers through his, holding tightly to him. "Not this time. Not you."

Anakin shut his eyes against the raw belief in her eyes.

"You don't know that."

"We do. Anakin, everything has already changed a great deal. You have changed by being here, meeting your children, learning about Vader. And," his tone turned wry, "I have changed a fair bit as well."

"Anakin, please. Let us help you."

He wanted to, that was the hell of it all.

"And when we're back home?" he challenged, already aware that this was the wrong question to ask. "What if you change back?"

Obi-Wan looked unruffled by the thought.

"If that were to happen – and honestly, you always find the worst scenario to dwell on – I would recall this if nothing else. Perhaps we will return to the past and perhaps I will arrive dimmer and depleted by the loss of my future self, but I can feel that he is right. Can't you? The Force is different in this time and it is because of what Luke did. Whatever else, I will remember that."

"Ani, you don't need to be afraid anymore," Padme whispered. She pressed her face to his, eyelashes stroking his cheek as she closed her eyes. "We'll be together in this and we can help you, stop you from falling."

Anakin wanted to deny it – he knew himself too well to hope – but it was impossible in their presence. Padme stepped into the circle of his arms. She pulled his head down, his forehead to hers as she held him. She kissed him lightly, her breath against his lips and then Obi-Wan was there as well, hand steady and warm on Anakin's shoulder. In the Force, he echoed strength and light and damned if he wasn't right. The Force was different now, clearer and more pure.

He caught his breath, opening his eyes to meet Obi-Wan's gaze.

"Well?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded jerkily and Obi-Wan pressed in, his back to Padme's as he kissed Anakin. She turned within his arms, doing something and then Obi-Wan was making a sound, rough in the back of his throat, that sent a warm shock up Anakin's spine.

"What –" he gulped for breath and looked between the two of them, dazed. "What about you two?"

He was almost afraid to ask, actually.

Padme spared a glance for Obi-Wan exactly as he did the same for her. They caught each other looking and simultaneously suppressed smiles.

"He's not unattractive."

"I suppose I can acquire an appreciation for her," Obi-Wan agreed.

Anakin ducked his head down to kiss Obi-Wan again.

"You better," he growled against his lips.

Padme pressed against his side, leaning up to kiss lightly at Anakin's neck and Anakin turned to her, dragging himself away from Obi-Wan to feel her through her dress, kissing her deeply. Obi-Wan's hand remained on Anakin's hip as he kissed Padme's open neckline. This is good, Anakin thought wildly. Insane, but good.

And maybe they were right about him. Maybe they could save him.

A sharp rap came at the door and the three of them scrambled apart.

"Five minutes, Master!" Ahsoka called. Anakin thanked the mercy of the Force for the fact that she was still blind and couldn't feel anything they were doing.

Anakin looked anywhere but at his wife and his Master, hand on his neck.

"Maybe we should actually get dressed?"

Neither Padme nor Obi-Wan seemed pleased by the suggestion.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in the past…_

"Signals, you say?" Chancellor Palpatine asked. He took the proffered datapad from Captain Tarkin, eyes flicking down to skim the first few lines. "From the distortion in orbit?"

The distortion – the rip in the Force, he thought, curling his lip mentally – had appeared months ago, but it had been largely quiescent despite the sudden and startling appearance. It had been bright in the sky of Coruscant, rippling brightly across the nightside of the world and visible even during the day. Yet it amounted to nothing more than a light show to anyone insensitive to the Force.

Secretly, Darth Sidious had conducted his own exploration, taking a ship up to investigate. He had basked in the rent, the unnatural hole in reality, feeling the pure energy of it. But it was only that: energy. He got as much meaning from it as he did standing in front of a reactor core, though that at least was less frustrating. No mere reactor had cost him the Chosen One.

And so the months passed, the war progressed, and the rift in the sky slowly began to fade.

"Yes, Your Excellency. It appears that it may be more than simple space weather."

"Indeed?" He feigned surprise and scholarly interest, setting the datapad down on his desk to look brightly at Tarkin. "And yet not a weapon, I assume from your demeanor.

Tarkin gave his a thin lipped smile.

"It seems the signals are of a military nature, but not weaponized by any means."

"Separatist?"

"No," Master Windu put in. He stood by the window, arms crossed as he frowned at the thin line in the sky that represented the rift. He turned to meet Palpatine's eyes, continued tersely, "They are not Separatist signals. There is something about the rift…"

Palpatine stood from his desk and looked curiously to Windu, stepping to his side and mimicking his stance as he peered at the rift.

"Something the Jedi have sensed?"

Impossible, he knew. Aside from their own general dull wittedness, the Force was nearly impenetrable to the Jedi these days. If Anakin's disappearance weren't so galling, Palpatine would take joy in the fact that the Jedi's prescience had weakened even further in his absence.

Windu only frowned more deeply.

"Regardless of the vaunted senses of the Jedi," Tarkin put in. "The signals appear to have meaning. We have decoded the transmissions, as you may see, sir."

He had picked up the datapad again and pressed it on Palpatine once more. Palpatine furrowed his brow as he looked through it. The signals were air to ground transmissions of the very same sort that Coruscant used to guide its traffic and manage police patrols, intermixed with what appeared to be information regarding troop movements. There was an oddness to the pattern, however. Each signal was miniscule, a fraction of what apparently amounted to a larger message. There had been no more than one or two of each small transmission every day, spread over an increasing interval. Fewer came through now than when the rift first appeared.

Which meant the rift was closing.

"There are so few," Palpatine said instead.

Tarkin nodded, apparently pleased that Palpatine had read between the lines.

"Yes, indeed. There at first appear to be many, but they amount to only a few dozen messages when they are pieced together. But what is most interesting is that, like own our transmissions, they have location and time data encoded in them."

Palpatine narrowed his eyes at the line Tarkin indicated with his long, tapered finger.

"They're from the future? How is that possible?"

Windu jerked away from his contemplation, swinging around to look at the datapad over Palpatine's shoulder. Even fully shielded, Palpatine could feel the sudden excitement filling Windu; it reflected his own. That was where Anakin was. The future.

"I am hardly the expert on metaphysics in this room," Tarkin said drily.

Palpatine looked to Windu who cocked his head to the side thoughtfully.

"It has been theorized. There were a great many experiments with the Force by ancient Jedi."

And Sith, Palpatine did not point out.

"If they are sending us messages, perhaps they intend to help us win the war," Palpatine said. He met Tarkin's eyes. "What is the nature of the military information? Is it any aid?"

Tarkin looked amused.

"None at all. Though it appears they had choice words to say about moving the 501st and Skywalker down to Coruscant. The phrase 'karking pain in the ass' appears in a full five of the transmissions."

"So it is not deliberate communication," Windu concluded. There was a smile on his face, sympathy for anyone dealing with Anakin and no small amount of wonder at the situation.

"Not as yet."

"Then I suppose it's time for us to initiate some," Palpatine said grandly.

And, when that didn't work, he was going to drag his future apprentice back to the present by whatever means necessary.


	8. Chapter 8

"That's your premonition?" Han asked. He leaned his elbow on the wide, holoconference table, mouth open in shock as he tried to catch the Togruta woman's eye. "'Something coming through'? That's it?"

"Han!" Leia objected.

He threw her an incredulous look and she pressed her lips together firmly. She didn't like it either, obviously, but she wasn't impressed with his behavior. She and Luke were settled on either side of Mon Mothma, creating a buffer against the Imperial – sorry, Republic, officers – and the New Republic's Chancellor. Ahsoka sat on Luke's other side, while Han took Leia's, leaving seats open for her parents when they arrived. The sooner the better, in Han's opinion, because talking out this vision business really wasn't going anywhere.

"What are we supposed to do with that intel?" he asked, waggling his fingers in disgust at the word.

"Han, visions from the Force aren't always very clear," Luke said. He looked to Ahsoka, faintly disappointed. "But there wasn't anything else?"

"All I know is that rift is going to let something very bad through, sometime soon. The Force was clear on that much."

"And by very bad, do you mean … Darth Vader?" Han asked.

"That's enough, General Solo," Mon Mothma said sternly. He grimaced and looked away. If it were up to him, he'd be back on the Falcon with Chewie, finishing the tune ups before whatever it was actually happened to trip its way into the present from the past. But he was a General and for some reason that meant he didn't get to have his way anymore. To Ahsoka, Mon Mothma said, "I'm grateful for your help, Ahsoka. If you can give us any additional information to prepare, that would be welcome."

Ahsoka squared her shoulders – unlike the younger one, she had a tendency toward slouching, thumb hooked into her belt. She carried herself like a lowlife, which Han could fully respect, really. But it didn't do a lot to lend credence to her Force predictions. For all Han knew, Jedi got as rusty as anyone else. After all those years hiding, why was he supposed to think she was any better at seeing the future than he was?

"I'm sure my vision wasn't about Anakin. I felt that as soon as it happened. Everyone did, I'm sure," she said. Her brow furrowed as she thought. "This was different. When Anakin created the rift, it was like the Force twisted back in on itself, but not in a bad way. It was light and infinity and … beauty."

Next to Han, Leia nodded. He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise and she shrugged.

"It's what I sensed, Han, on the Resolute," she said quietly.

All he'd seen was a tear in the blackness of space; he'd seen worse, running spice. Weirder.

"But this was different. Pure malice and spite, anger like I haven't felt in years. And a warning from the Force that it was coming, but that we could stop it."

"And you didn't see how, by any chance, Commander?" asked the clone, Rex.

Han still wasn't even close to okay with that part of things. Yeah, he remembered the holonewsreels like anyone else who could remember the first Empire Day instead of being born after it – or on it he figured, with Luke and Leia's obvious family issues. The clones had been heroes then, but so had the Jedi, and he knew how that turned out.

Order 66 loomed over Rex every time Han looked at him, weighed down every decision Leia and Mon were making about the clones. But damned if they knew what the trigger was. The Emperor's order, of course, but the mechanics beyond that had been one of his most tightly guarded secrets. Han didn't like him being in the room with either Luke or Leia, never mind the obvious deference and respect Rex showed for Jedi. It was too big a risk. He should have been back in the barracks or headed up to the Resolute like the rest of his men.

"We close the rift," she said simply.

"Alright," Luke said. "But how?"

Ahsoka just spread her hands.

"I'm not the one running the sensor scans. I'm just a Jedi washout who sometimes sees things. What do your analysts say?"

"Not much, unfortunately," Admiral Yularen put in. He had his hands folded in front of him on the table, distaste on his face as he surveyed the group. His eyes lingered on the empty chairs were his Jedi Generals were supposed to be sitting. With a sigh, he shook his head, picking up his datapad to read from it. "It's an immensely dense structure, whatever it is, but with no gravitational forces. Our readings show no life forms and no energy signatures, which is blatantly preposterous for what it must be. There do appear to be what I suppose I can only call echoes, emanating from the structure, but all the signals we have sent into it have been entirely swallowed. Otherwise, all that we have is that it indeed appears to be collapsing, growing measurably smaller every hour."

"Then what's the problem?" Han asked. "Let it collapse."

"I assume it is not actually that simple?" Mon Mothma asked.

"No insult to your hospitality, ma'am, but the boys and I'd like to go home. Help our brothers win the war. I think the Generals agree," Rex said

Han rolled his eyes. He'd already said his piece on this point and he'd already been overruled. Mon Mothma had cleared the clones to return to the Resolute, either in case of a new threat coming through the rift or a sudden change of fortunes that allowed their visitors to go home. Personally, he didn't think it was either a bright idea or anything that was even going to work.

Artoo beeped rapidly from his corner and rolled forward to interface with the table, bringing up the readings he'd taken on the flight up to the Resolute.

"Artoo's right," Luke said, leaning forward. He looked around the table and, after a pause, explained, "The echoes are the only thing we're getting out of the rift, right? They're the key."

"Sir," Yularen said carefully. He sounded very much as if he couldn't believe he was addressing Luke that way. "It's only signal noise. Distortion. There isn't anything to even analyze in the echoes."

Artoo made a rude blatting sound, laughing at the Admiral. He rotated his data input arm and the holo display filled with numbers – a wire frame model of the rift hung above the center of the table, apparently extrapolated from Artoo's calculations.

Han grinned cockily at him.

"Seems our little friend disagrees with you."

Leia frowned at the holo, gesturing up and down it.

"But what does it mean?"

Behind the assembled group, the door opened. Luke all but jumped up to greet his parents. Rex and Yularen stood at attention, while Leia turned languidly in her chair. Han didn't bother with that, merely casting a look over his shoulder.

"So you can do a quick change after all," Han said, raising his eyebrows at Amidala, who had traded her blue and gold gown for a simple white jumpsuit.

She took no offense, merely raising her hand to the pinned twists of hair on top of her head, smiling faintly at him. It was hard not to feel pleased that she'd taken it as a compliment, especially since he'd actually meant it that way.

"We apologize for the inconvenience," Kenobi said. "We had concerns of our own to discuss."

"About going back?" Luke asked.

Vader's apprentice snorted and rolled her eyes before throwing herself down into the empty seat next to Han. He gave her a long look, but admitted that he'd rather have her there than either of Leia's parents.

"Sure," Ahsoka said sarcastically. "That's it."

The older Ahsoka frowned as she looked at the girl.

"What's with you? I thought you wanted to go back."

Ahsoka clenched her hand on the table, glaring at her older self, who seemed entirely unimpressed. Han looked between the two of them. No, he decided. He would not miss this.

"I do, but – ugh, just stay out of it, will you? It's between me and _my_ master."

"He was my master as well, young one," Ahsoka returned. She dipped her head knowingly. "And that's the problem, isn't it?"

Vader and Kenobi had that exact same wise, all knowing Jedi expression on their faces. Amidala moved toward Ahsoka, but Kenobi shook his head subtly. Instead, he laid one hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Matters will improve, Ahsoka. With or without the Force."

So that was it. She was still cranky about losing her connection to the Force – or, as Luke had explained it, that her other self was blocking it.

"Couldn't you just do what you did for him?" Han asked Vader, nodding toward Kenobi.

Because last he'd heart, Kenobi was Force blind too and then Luke was saying that was all fixed, if highly complicated in a way that Han really didn't care about.

Vader looked both startled and horrified by the suggestion. He looked at Kenobi.

"I don't –"

"That probably is not advisable," Kenobi put in smoothly.

Vader's shocked looked quickly passed and his eyes took on a distant, cunning gleam. He looked toward the older Ahsoka.

"Maybe," he started. "If it's like a training bond..."

"You know what? Pass," Ahsoka replied loudly.

The older Ahsoka looked just as disturbed.

"Agreed."

"I'll get the Force back when we get back home," Ahsoka decided.

"Hope that works out for you, kid," Han said. He shrugged one shoulder. "But if it doesn't, you should know, plenty of us get along just fine without the Force."

Han supposed she'd probably learned that death glare from Vader. And here he'd always figured it was genetic, given how often he'd seen it from both Luke and Leia. Seemed like Ahsoka was an honorary Skywalker after all.

Kenobi sat with a sigh and Amidala followed him, leaving a chair open between them for Vader.

"We are going back, Ahsoka," Vader said after a long moment.

She nodded after a long moment of hesitation.

"You'll feel the Force again," he continued. "And we will fix everything."

The way he pronounced 'we' sounded a heck of a lot like 'I' to Han. And if he was going to be skeptical about anything – instead of everything, which was the current plan – it was that Darth Vader would fix his mistakes before he made them.

"I hope so, Master."

Vader looked at the back of her lowered head for a long moment before turning to Mon Mothma. He bowed to her.

"I apologize for our tardiness. Is there anything that we missed?"

She watched him shrewdly as he sat between Kenobi and Amidala, blue eyes cool. She raised one of her hands to gesture to the wire frame holo and then set it down again on the table, head cocked to the side as she gazed through the model of the rift at Vader.

"We were discussing the data readings Admiral Yularen took from the spatial distortion you traveled through," she said.

Vader sat forward as he looked through the data, frowning deeply. He reached out to point at one line.

"Have you looked into the resonance frequencies? It looks like there's feedback bouncing –"

Artoo gave a long, exasperated sounding tweet and Vader immediately blinked in surprise, leaning out of his chair and over Kenobi to peer at the droid. Kenobi had a long suffering but fond expression on his face and merely pushed his chair back to get out of the way.

"Artoo? Padme didn't say she'd brought you down. No, I'm not stepping on your toes. You don't have any and how was I supposed to know you were about to explain the echoes?"

He grinned as Artoo continued whistling. Han swiveled in his chair to share a look with Leia.

"That is our Artoo, isn't it?" he hissed to her. He really didn't remember picking up any other passengers on the Resolute, but he also didn't put it past Leia's ever so diplomatic and kind mother to pull some kind of bait and switch on them.

Leia pursed her lips.

"Yes, I think so."

It was Amidala who interrupted the cheerful back and forth between Vader and the droid.

"Artoo, what was the order I gave to you before the Falcon left orbit?"

Artoo blinked his large indicator light from blue to red and back again and then beeped hesitantly. Amidala raised her eyebrows and he whistled softly in shame.

"That's what I thought." She put her hand lightly on Vader's arm, nodding to the droid. "Ani, meet Artoo. Our _daughter's_ Artoo."

His expression turned wary in an instant.

"Do you remember me?"

Artoo tweeted a happy affirmative – and then something else that had Luke half rising from his seat.

"Hey!" he protested. "I thought I was your favorite."

Han didn't speak droid, but Artoo's matter of fact 'no' was clear even to him.

"I guess that explains it, sweetheart." Leia looked at him questioningly and he clarified, "Why Artoo never told you. He's an asshole."

* * *

Luke dropped back into his seat, trying not to feel too put out by Artoo's dismissal. He probably knew the droids quirks better than anyone – although not his father, apparently – so he was already aware that Artoo was not exactly the nicest droid around.

"Is this about me not repairing your flame thrower?" he demanded.

Artoo beeped a simple confirmation and then, after a pause, elaborated on Luke's other flaws.

Anakin glanced from Artoo over to Luke and then asked, to the droid, "Really? Even your rocket boosters?"

Artoo let out a long beep like a moan and Anakin sat back. He threw a disbelieving look at Luke, who shrugged slightly in return. He hadn't even known about the rocket boosters. How was he supposed to know to repair them? The distinct feeling of disapproval pushed at the edges of his perception within the Force, though it was joined by what Luke could only describe as a psychic knuckle-rap – from Ben, directed toward Anakin, who immediately pulled a face, but withdrew the pressure.

Luke stared at his father. He had to wonder if Vader had made those expressions behind the mask; he couldn't decide if that would have been heartening or desperately sad.

"As we were saying," Mon Monthma said smoothly, "There are readings that indicate some kind of echo or communication from the other side of the rift."

Luke looked to her. She had faint creases on her face, stress lines at the corners of her mouth; restrained consternation from trying to deal with the assembled crowd. Luke was sure that they were no worse than the governing council, but resolved to focus and behave more sensibly.

"Definitely communication," Anakin said.

"General?" Yularen asked.

Anakin gave an aggrieved sigh as if the data was that obvious. Luke thought he could see the gist of it, in between the broken bits of information, but he wasn't any kind of engineer. He knew enough to recognize that the wire frame was built out of the refractions of subspace communications, but with that in mind, it meant the signals were all coming from their own side of the rift. He didn't know how Anakin figured there was actual communication coming through.

Again, Anakin pointed to a particular line in the data.

Next to him, Ben shook his head.

"You'll have to explain, Anakin."

"No," Han said suddenly. "I see it. The frequency is totally different from the rest of the comm traffic bouncing all over the rift. That's what the readings are, right? The sensors can't pick up on the damn thing, but we all know it's there, and we're getting a jumble of noise back from our own transmissions. Except that one there because that's not even in the subspace carrier frequency. It's like... light."

"Light?"

"We knew that, Captain Solo," Yularen said. "As we can in fact see the rift, it is not surprising that it emits light."

"He's right, Admiral. Although it only looks like light. The frequency increased when it passed through the rift – I'd guess that time is compressed within it, which is how we ended up here," Anakin said. His expression went distant as he thought through the implications of that.

"You mean it's not a portal?" Mon Mothma asked.

Anakin cocked his head to the side, still looking at the computer model. His eyes were moving back and forth, reading over the data again and again.

"If time is compressed inside it," Luke said slowly, "and passing through it sped up that transmission, why didn't you age when you passed through the rift?"

"No idea. But stranger things have happened."

"Have they?" Leia asked skeptically.

"Kinda, yeah," Ahsoka replied.

"Which is really neither here nor there," Ben said. He was, of course, a pretty good example of 'stranger things.' "If that is in fact a communication from the past, should we not try to decode it?"

Artoo whistled irritably at him.

"My mistake," he said with exaggerated contrition. A smile tugged at his lips behind his beard. "Do explain for us, Artoo."

Mon Mothma held up a hand.

"First, allow me one request," she said and she depressed a button on the table.

The computer panels imbedded before each seat lit with red Aurebesh lettering as the translation program booted up. Luke nodded. That was fair enough. He supposed they could have called for someone to get Threepio, but that would hardly speed the meeting up and he didn't exactly relish finding out that Threepio liked his father better too.

With that in mind, though, he really would have to make sure Threepio got a nice oil bath later. Just in case.

Artoo whistled and beeped his way through an explanation of the transmission. Once he'd figured out the resonance of the rift, he'd been able to translate the transmission back into its original frequency. The data was actually patchy – it seemed that quite a lot had been lost in the rift itself. He suspected that the rift required energy to sustain itself and as that fell off, it was pulling from the meager sources around it. Those would fail soon enough and then the rift would collapse. Which, he mentioned, meant that they didn't really have a problem as long as they shot down anything coming through.

"I'd like to stay here too, buddy," Anakin replied to that. "But there are a lot of things I have to answer for back in the past. A lot of things we need to prevent from happening."

Artoo gave a tweet indicating his indifference to fixing history, before moving back to the topic of the transmission.

From what he could tell, it was someone trying to set up an appointment.

Mon Mothma frowned.

"An appointment? So they are trying to speak with us?"

Artoo blinked his indicator light.

The contingent from the past sat up straighter, excitement thrumming through the Force. The Ahsoka from Luke's time shook her head slowly.

"Does any of this feel familiar?" Luke asked her.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at Artoo's translation.

"Not this part, not yet. But I know our time is running short. It's coming soon," she said. Frustration was plain on her face. Her vision was nearly on them and they were all sitting around chatting. "Artoo, when is the appointment for?"

Soon, was Artoo's brief answer.

Ahsoka grimaced and met Luke's eyes.

"I suggest we try to keep that appointment," Mon Mothma proposed. "Perhaps speaking with those trying to reach us will allow us to prevent any threat from their end."

Han rested his arm on the back of Leia's chair, raising his eyebrows as he looked around the table.

"Worth a shot. Who d'you think we'll be talking to, Luke? One of your musty old Jedi?"

Luke opened his mouth to answer – he honestly hoped so – when the comm crackled to life. He shivered as Ahsoka's prescience shimmered in front of him. He could catch just the edges of it, enough to know for a fact that her vision was already unfolding.

Around the table, Ben and Anakin reacted as well. Anakin battened down his shields while Ben reaching out, trying to grasp that ephemeral feeling of the future-now that coiled around them only to disperse. Luke reached out to chase it and instantly felt Anakin tug him back, warning and protectiveness accompanying an iron grip in the Force.

" – track it!" Yularen was saying.

Luke blinked as he came back to himself.

Leia threw her hands up.

"What part of shoot anything that comes out of the rift did your crew misunderstand?" she shouted.

"I was under the impression we were now trying to talk, not fight," Yularen said tersely.

Padme sighed.

"Artoo?" she called into the comm. Her droid, up on the Resolute, replied. Her eyes scanned the translation as it appeared automatically. "What kind of probe is it?"

Alright, so that answered what he'd apparently missed. Something had already come through the rift. He felt carefully toward space, extending his sense toward that bizarre streak of energy and time up there. Whatever it was, it wasn't the fulfillment of Ahsoka's vision – not quite, anyway.

It was a beginning.

"There you go," Han said. "Fixes everything. Convenient."

"Artoo, if it's a communications booster, does that mean we can use it?" Padme asked.

Luke scrubbed his hand over his eyes as he read the translation – they didn't need to, it was already active – and then looked up as the rift model was replaced by a communications holo.

He recoiled instantly from the visage he'd honestly hoped to never, ever see again: the Emperor himself.

* * *

A shock rippled in the Force, unpleasant and edged with unrefined power; the twins reacting far more than Anakin, though he was there too, his emotions subdued and locked down. Obi-Wan looked to him, tempted to reach out, but Anakin clenched his jaw, eyes going hard as he watched the holo of Chancellor Palpatine in the Jedi Council Chamber flicker in and out of phase.

"See if you can strengthen the signal," Mon Mothma said, voice clear and loud, directed toward no one in particular.

Artoo toodled something at her and then the other Artoo, the one on the Resolute, responded nastily. They exchanged several noises of increasing volume and if Obi-Wan had not been staring at the murderer who all but destroyed the galaxy, he might have been amused. Whatever they were bickering about, however, it did result in a higher resolution.

The holo snapped to brilliant clarity, large and detailed on the meeting room table. Obi-Wan stiffened in his chair, breath caught in a hard lump in his chest as he ran his eyes over the Council Members' translucent forms – seen from the back because the holo was oriented toward Mon Mothma. And yet entirely recognizable nonetheless. Only half were present, gathered behind the Chancellor rather than in their own chairs, so that they might be more easily visible to the holocam. It had been weeks and a lifetime and he missed each of them dearly, damn the consequences of that along with the man standing among them.

They didn't know they harbored a Sith Lord.

"Aw, hell," Han said gruffly.

"I have to agree," Obi-Wan said.

They desperately needed to warn the Council of Palpatine's intentions, but they could hardly do so with the man present. And time was still ticking down on Ashoka's vision, the danger in represented. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. Palpatine was stalling for time, he was sure of it.

With a calm that she very plainly did not feel, Leia stood. Luke slanted a surprised look at her and communication shimmered through the Force, unlike any Obi-Wan had sensed among Temple Jedi – even Masters Tiplar and Tiplee had relied on the more open and public use of the Force, hesitant to deepen a pre-existing attachment into a deeper Force bond. Luke nodded tersely to her and also moved out of the holocam range. The pair leaned against the wall, Leia ashen and angry as she stared at the holo, while Luke had clenched his gloved hand at his side.

Padme frowned, looking between Luke and Leia and her own husband, torn about who to go to, and herself disturbed by Palpatine's unwanted presence.

Even with all of the plans to return to their own time, the future had become a kind of respite in the short time they'd been here. It was an unpleasant shock to confront Palpatine so soon, with so little decided. Obi-Wan reached across the table, in front of Anakin, to take Padme's hand and her eyes flew to his, surprise and relief on her face. They were still in this together; Obi-Wan had no intention of going back on that.

Anakin ignored them both, tapping at the controls on the table to bring up a secondary holo, smaller but pointed in the correct direction so he could actually see what was going on. It sprang to life, drawing eyes from their side of the table; whatever reaction Anakin had to the sight of Palpatine, he controlled it so well that even Obi-Wan felt nothing.

That in itself was a bad sign.

Obi-Wan felt Padme's hand flex in his and turned from the holo to look at Anakin, studying his expression. Anakin avoided his eyes, but gave nothing away, watching the holo with fixed attention.

"My greetings," Palpatine said. He gave a deep bow to the holocamera and the Council members nodded in turn. He spoke in a rich, sonorous voice that was full of affection and humor; Obi-Wan's stomach churned to hear it. "I have heard many interesting things from my advisers about the rift we have sent their communications probes through. Is it true? Am I speaking to the Mon Mothma of the future?"

She raised an eyebrow. If he expected for her to be impressed that he recognized her, he was doomed to disappointment. Obi-Wan felt a surge of appreciation for her.

"Indeed. And you are my old friend, Chancellor Palpatine. Such an interesting situation we find ourselves in."

Palpatine's eyes sharpened at the non-answer and he smiled.

"My, it is so hard to tell how many years have passed simply from looking at you. Would you enlighten us?"

Mon Mothma looked past him, to Padme, and then refocused on the holo.

"No more than twenty five years, I expect," she said simply.

Behind Palpatine, the Council members murmured among themselves. Yoda seemed relatively pleased – he was one of the few remaining with any kind of foresight in the Force, Obi-Wan recalled, but his visions were muddled. He worried about fate of the Republic and the Jedi, though he could hardly imagine their fall after so many centuries personally guarding them both. It was a terrible way to give reassurance, Obi-Wan thought, lying to Yoda now with the implication that the Republic would weather the Clone War undamaged.

Mace Windu sat forward, his palms on his knees.

"That's all very interesting, but you know why we are contacting you, do you not? There are visitors from our time that came through that rift. They do not belong there."

Palpatine nodded.

"Just so. I'm sure Generals Skywalker and Kenobi make good company, but they are somewhat important to our time," Palpatine said. There was note of strained displeasure in his voice as he added, "We'll have them back, if you would."

"We have been discussing just that," Mon Mothma said. "They too would like to return to their time."

Palpatine brightened.

"Ah, they're present with you now? Anakin, my dear boy, are you there?"

"Of course, your excellency."

All eyes were drawn to Anakin as he rose from the table. Padme tugged on his sleeve and Obi-Wan reached out, mentally cautioning him. In return Anakin shook his head, shooting both of them irritated looks.

"I got this," he whispered furiously.

Obi-Wan refused to relent in the Force. He focused on their bond, bolstering and tuning it, both to support Anakin and better get a read on him. Anakin responded the frustrated indulgence – but just enough acceptance to give Obi-Wan the idea of how unsettled he truly was.

"Does anyone else think this is a bad idea?" Leia asked in an undertone, expression dark as her eyes followed Anakin. If the transmitter picked it up, Palpatine gave no indication; as a more honest barometer, nor did Master Yoda or Master Windu.

Luke looked doubtful as well, but made no move to leave his sister's side, to put himself back in front of the transmitter. Wise, for the moment. That was an answer to a question the Council was not yet prepared to ask, in addition to being a potential weapon for Palpatine to wield.

Both Ahsokas looked equally tense as they watched Anakin take a position just behind Mon Mothma's shoulder, standing as if he were her guard. Only Rex and Yularen were oblivious, though clearly confused by the sudden concern. General Skywalker was the best choice for speaking to the Chancellor, after all. Even they were aware of their close relationship.

Obi-Wan felt his stomach drop. He could recall thinking that mere days before, finding an excuse so that Anakin would speak to Palpatine on his behalf and he wouldn't have to deal directly with him. Years and years of ignoring the inappropriate mentorship, if not outright fostering it.

You have had quite enough rumination and guilt, he told himself sternly. Decades in the desert to think about his failures and now the chance to right them. Self-pity does not suit a Jedi Master, he thought.

Giving Padme a cautioning look, he disentangled his hand from hers and rose to follow Anakin. He stood behind Mon Mothma's other shoulder, giving a quick, informal bow to the assembled officials in the past.

Despite his tightly controlled posture, Anakin flashed a relieved smile his way.

Obi-Wan tucked his hands into his sleeves and inclined his head to Palpatine.

"Chancellor, Masters, it is excellent to see you. We were just preparing to journey home."

Yoda's eyes were piercing, even through the faded blue of the holo. His clawed finger stroked his chin as he examined Obi-Wan, curiosity giving away his thoughts. He could see a difference, but did not know what it was. Yet for him to even notice meant he was aware of how utterly visiting the future had affected him – and in turn may affect the time line.

For the better, Obi-Wan knew, but he could hardly say so.

"Know you if that is possible?" Yoda asked skeptically.

"I believe that it is," Anakin said. "That we're talking now means that energy can be transmitted to the past, and if it can, then matter can."

Obi-Wan was less convinced of that, but saw little reason to argue the point.

"Then you will bring news of the future. My, how exciting!" Palpatine said.

Anakin inclined his head toward the Chancellor, but held himself back from the smile he would typically give the man; Palpatine declined to react, though Obi-Wan was quite sure he'd noticed.

"There is some concern among us that our visitors' return may upset the timeline," Mon Mothma put in. "What say you, Masters?"

"Difficult to say. Clouded, the future is." Yoda sighed heavily. "And not from your actions alone. Clouded it has been for too long."

"Regardless, I hardly think we should wait any longer. The loss of our greatest Jedi Generals has already cost the war effort. I'm afraid the losses on the front lines have been quiet heavy, my boy," Palpatine said. He ended on a deep sigh, shaking his head mournfully.

Anakin took an abortive step forward, only to remember that Mon Mothma was in front of him.

"Losses? But we've only been gone –" He stopped, eyes going distant, and then he raked his fingers through his hair, blowing out a long breath. "The echoes. How long have we been gone, sir?"

"Months," Mace said.

Anakin nodded and dropped his hand.

"That makes sense. We're not getting much in the way of data out of the rift, but we do have fragmented transmissions, over a very long span."

Across the table, behind the holograms, Rex raised an eyebrow.

"How d'ya figure that makes sense, General?"

Anakin rolled his eyes, stiffness going out of his posture. But whatever reply he had ready on his lips died as Palpatine leaned toward the camera excitedly.

"Is that Captain Rex there? What a wonderful surprise."

Rex stood easily from his chair and walked within pick up range of the camera, standing at ease several paces behind Anakin. Obi-Wan felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He did not like this at all.

"My friends have been quite cagey, so far," Palpatine said jocularly. "Even Anakin. But I suspect you would be more amenable to following my orders, Captain."

"Of course, sir."

"Tell me: what have you learned? How does the war end?"

"Chancellor, what is the point of this? They'll tell us as soon as they return," Mace said. He looked like he was torn between impatience and boredom.

"You yourself expressed doubts to me about that," Palpatine returned. "If months have already passed, months may again pass even in the few hours it takes for them to reach the rift. This information could save lives."

"I disagree, Chancellor," Obi-Wan said, eyes narrowing. He was entirely sure this was a ploy. "None of our information refers back to a months-long disappearance for myself or Anakin. While I'm sure we could help with the broader goals of the war, and will if we return, our information will be quite useless for the present campaigns."

"Thank you, but I was speaking to Captain Rex," Palpatine said stiffly.

Rex shot Obi-Wan a puzzled look, but stepped forward nonetheless.

"Sir. To be honest, haven't learned a great deal. The troops and I weren't greeted quite so kindly as our Generals, though we weren't mistreated. I haven't the faintest about the end of the war, sir."

"Oh, that is a shame." Palpatine gave a light shrug and settled his attention back on Anakin, smiling faintly. "My boy, I hope you can give me a little insight. There are so many Jedi fighting and dying out there – the Outer Rim sieges have only worsened. I know it is terribly selfish to be concerned for my homeworld, but I fear that the war may soon be on Naboo's doorstep. Is there any help you can give at all?"

"I – I'm afraid I agree with General Kenobi. Our intelligence won't be of much use to you right now. But I promise you, we will return and win the war." Anakin's shields faltered momentarily and his uncertainty bled through, giving lie to his words. He repeated as much to Palpatien as to himself, "We will."

Palpatine nodded. His eyes were sharp and an avuncular smile broadened his face.

"Of course. And Captain Rex – would you do me a favor? Look after them both. They do mean so much to me and to the Republic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about not replying to comments last chapter. Life kind of caught up with me for a bit and the AO3 decided to be a jerk today. But ILU all and thanks so much for reading. <33


	9. Chapter 9

Palpatine watched Kenobi avidly as the man stilled himself and forced a careful smile. He took the threat as intended – a giveaway in itself. The man who had disappeared from the Clone Wars would betray only puzzlement at the Chancellor himself singling a clone out for orders.

He knew. He knew and there was no doubt in Palpatine's mind that he had told Anakin, that he worked even now to permanently win Anakin to his side. The thought was infuriating and Palpatine felt the cold, violent power of the Dark Side surge inside him. He tamped it down, well aware of the disgusting press of Jedi around him.

The holo image flickered and Windu looked to the other Masters.

"What's happening?" he asked tersely.

"The temporal distension is increasing," Plo Koon responded. He moved his hand over the controls on his chair, asking the transmission station on the lower levels, "Match the oscillation frequency for as long as you can."

Windu drummed his fingers on his armrest until the holo focused once more.

"Time is short," he told Kenobi. "Are you sure there is nothing you can tell us to steer the war? A fixed point that hasn't changed in your absence?"

Kenobi looked at Palpatine and pressed his lips into a thin line. Beside him, Anakin looked tense and ashen, even in the false color of the holo.

"There are no fixed points," Kenobi said harshly without looking away from Palpatine.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Master Kenobi," Palpatine replied. He looked to the clone standing next to Anakin and then gestured to the Council members behind him. "The players do remain the same. Some things are predictable, are they not? Based only on... character."

"On that point we agree."

The image in the holo shuddered and then stopped. Palpatine stared at it before turning curiously to Master Plo, who had leaned forward, hands laced together on his crossed legs.

"What is going on?" he asked.

Palpatine furrowed his brow dramatically as he stepped closer to the holoprojector. The machine did appear to be functioning. He tapped at it and Windu swiftly stood, pulling Palpatine away as he would any fool politician ready to tinker with electronics.

"It froze," Palpatine explained.

"It did not," Plo Koon interjected. He nodded to the green indicator lights and numerals ticking upward. "However, it seems the temporal distortion is increasing."

"They froze?" Palpatine asked in startlement.

"I suppose you could say that," Windu said. "After a fashion."

"We are talking to them across a great distance in time and in the Force," Plo Koon rumbled. "Instability is to be expected. I think the connection will soon break."

Palpatine looked at him, wide eyed.

"But we've hardly learned anything of use."

Except that without Anakin at his side, his plans would surely fail, that twenty five years hence he would be dead and the Sith Empire destroyed before its time – if even it came to be. Palpatine channeled his rage into the Dark Side, coiling it around himself in the cloak that further hid his presence in the Force, suppressing the ripples that should bring the Jedi Council's attention down on him in a flurry of violence.

As ever, they were blind to all he did. It was nearly impossible to fathom how he could possibly fail when they were his only opposition.

Perhaps Dooku, he speculated as he watched the still motionless holo. He had always hated Anakin, had little regard for Palpatine's plans on that front, though he did not know the full extent of them. He thought the future lay in the hands of Dark Jedi, a movement of them, a cascade, and wished to begin by corrupting men such as Kenobi. A fool's errand, Palpatine thought, yet it was the only explanation he had for how his plans, so carefully laid over the decades and inherited from no less than Plagueis and Tenebrous, would ultimately come to nothing.

Dooku would betray him and the Sith cause. Without Anakin to forestall it, to replace Dooku and take his rightful place at Palpatine's side, the Jedi lived well past their expiration date.

He was a worthy sacrifice, Palpatine decided. Even if he could not return to the present with Anakin, ridding himself of Dooku would surely safeguard Palpatine's ambitions for the galaxy.

The holo shimmered and fluctuated, making the Council shift anew to attention, and then it moved fluidly back into full motion. Palpatine watched the rise and fall of Anakin's chest, feeling a spark of satisfaction at the sight.

"Master, I don't think we have time for this," Anakin was saying. He looked nervous, fiddling with the hems of his sleeves as he nearly always did in the presence of Council members.

Palpatine raised his eyebrows at Anakin.

"I should think otherwise, my boy. Time is all we have and what we must make the most of," he said lightly.

Anakin nodded hesitantly. Next to him, Kenobi tensed further, all but glaring back at Palpatine.

He was not, it could easily be said, an impatient man. But what loomed before Palpatine was the uncertainty of months, not knowing if Dooku had succeeded or failed, with no sign at all of the course his plans would follow. No, Palpatine was not prepared for that, not to let this opportunity slip so easily between his fingers. He was patient and trusting in the Darkness – but only because it spoke so vividly to him. A lack of information was nothing less than galling.

"I do have one question, son, that I must ask before you go. Do you know what it is that ends the war?" Palpatine asked.

"I –" Anakin jerked his head to the side, wide eyes searching Kenobi for support, confidence in what to say. Before Kenobi could answer, he looked back to Palpatine. "I know enough."

"Then out with it," Windu said impatiently.

"No," Yoda interjected. His voice was weary with all his eight hundred years, yet strengthened by the same. "Know the future, we should not. Know it, we cannot. If return our friends do, change, the future will. Acting in pursuit of it, disastrous, it may be."

"You are very wise, Master Yoda," Kenobi said, inclining his head. He placed his hand on Anakin's shoulder, but the boy seemed to slump further under its weight, rather than being buoyed by the comfort offered.

"I defer, as ever, to your counsel. I do hope we will see you soon, son. If there's no aid you can give to us now," Palpatine paused to shake his head, giving a disappointed sigh, "Perhaps you should be on your way. I do hope we can fend Grievous off in the interim."

"Chancellor, thank you for your concern. The Order does appreciate your kind of appraisal of our abilities," Windu said behind him.

Palpatine half turned to give him a surprised, innocent look.

"I meant no offense, Master Windu."

Windu narrowed his eyes at him and then looked back to Kenobi.

"Nonetheless, we bid you caution. The both of you. This experience of yours is unprecedented."

"And dangerous," Yoda put in. He closed his eyes and he hummed thoughtfully. "In motion the future is, even if fixed for you. Unsteady it is under your feet, though you think it solid. Careful you must be."

Anakin nodded hastily, while Kenobi waited for Yoda's eyes to crack open, forefinger rubbing over his mustache.

"We must caution you as well," Mon Mothma said.

Palpatine returned his attention to her, keenly aware of the warning she represented. Were she a completely new politician, he'd find her less of a threat. To know that one of the loyal opposition in his own Senate took the Chancellorship from him, survived all that he planned for the galaxy with such calm and determination in her eyes was simply galling.

"There are many more dangers in your time than you are aware of," Mon Mothma continued quietly. "Undiscovered until it was far too late. Presuming, of course, that your future is my own past."

The hedge was unconvincing.

"Thank you, Chancellor, we will be on our guard," Palpatine replied.

She did not bother to hide her repelled reaction as the connection fizzled out.

It was some wonder at all that these fools had achieved victory, he decided, giving away so many details to him so readily. She knew what he was as well as Kenobi – interesting. He could speculate as to what that meant, why the Jedi would reveal his true nature when they were so secretive in his own time, but for the moment it simply gave him more impetus to retrieve his soon to be apprentice.

He turned on his heel and nodded perfunctorily to the Council members.

"Masters, I thank you for allowing me to join this audience with our mislaid heroes. I do hope you will keep me updated on how matters proceed with them and with that pesky temporal rift."

"Indeed we shall," Plo Koon said. "If you will keep us informed of your own investigations."

"Of course! I shall have Captain Tarkin remain on Coruscant to conduct his studies of the rift. Perhaps Master Piell can work on it with him and so make sure we are all receiving the same information?" he asked, as if the thought had just now occurred to him.

Windu nodded slowly, deeming it acceptable.

"And now, if you will excuse me, I do have an unfortunately large pile of Senatorial dealings to go sort through," Palpatine concluded.

"Chancellor," Yoda said, standing with his gimer stick hard against the stone floor. Palpatine rolled his eyes to himself, but turned on his heel to face the old Jedi. "Think, do you not, that you should stay for our discussion?"

"Of what?" he asked in bafflement.

"The dangers young," and here Yoda chuckled, as if he was clever, "Senator Mon Mothma spoke of. Know of them, we do not, yet real they surely are. A valuable insight she has given us."

Palpatine rubbed his hand across his brow, giving a lengthy sigh.

"Dear Master Yoda, I'm afraid I have far too many enemies and face too many dangers now to speculate on what it is she means. I do not prefer to go looking for trouble, and no insight into the Force. I shall trust in your judgment, as ever, and exile myself to deal only with such mundanities as budgets and tariffs." He nodded to the wizened Jedi and turned once more. "I thank you for your time."

Aside from that pile of flimsiplasts on his desk, which he actually did have to deal with, there was the matter of freeing himself of the plainly treacherous Dooku and retrieving Anakin.

Wouldn't it be lovely, he thought idly, descending on the Temple elevator, if Anakin were to kill Dooku and return under his own volition? He would have to have motive, of course. Something in this time period to return for, beyond the war.

Palpatine smiled to himself as he considered his choices.

* * *

"Please tell me," Leia said as soon as the holo cut out. "We are not actually related to that monster."

She pushed away from the wall, avoiding Luke's attempt to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Leia gritted her teeth as she looked between her parents – Padme's careful and concerned expression and Anakin's ashen, taut features.

He blinked rapidly and frowned as he turned to her.

"What?" he asked.

Leia jabbed her finger toward the holoconsole.

"He called you 'son'," she snapped, teeth bared in a miserable grimace. She almost felt like laughing.

The Force had a twisted sense of humor. She really wouldn't put it past him, past the universe, to play this trick on her twice.

"No, Leia," Luke said softly. This time she let him take her gently by the shoulders, wrapping one arm around her. "That's not true. You can feel it, right? It's not."

Leia shook her head jerkily, denying that same chill hollowness that he felt. That the question was an impulse of fear alone, not of the Force. It didn't feel the way it had when she learned about Vader, about Luke, that fully realized truth that she couldn't believe she hadn't known of before, terrible and wonderful at once.

This was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, a shiver on her skin and even though she _knew_ , she needed to hear it from him.

"He is not Anakin's father," Obi-Wan said.

"Sure about that?" Han asked unhelpfully. He was leaned back in his chair, arm bent at the elbow and hanging off the seat back. His smile was tight, his eyes hard, as he waved his hand between the disappeared holo and Anakin. "We're just a little wary, you know. Don't want to get another of these nasty little family revelations."

"He's not," Anakin said abruptly. "My father is not a Republic citizen. I ran a check through the database myself as soon as I could slice it."

Obi-Wan was torn between looking puzzled and chagrined. He hadn't known Anakin had done that, Leia surmised.

"Anakin, of course your father isn't a citizen. We know that you do not –"

"Just don't, alright? Not right now."

Leia turned to Luke, furrowing her brow as she sent a silent question. He shook his head and tightened his half-embrace.

"It's complicated," he said in a quick undertone. "Not sure I understand it either."

"Anakin…"

"It was a kind lie told to a little kid. I know what happens to slaves, Master, especially women," Anakin bit out. He glared fiercely at everyone in the room, daring them to contradict him.

Leia felt her breath rush out of her. She'd hoped the same thing once. It was the best explanation she'd been able to summon for her own existence, but she'd never admitted it, not even to Luke.

His words were enough to make the conversation stall out, his apprentice shifting awkwardly while Padme continued to make wide, worried eyes at him. Leia felt her mouth twist. She had all the evidence she'd ever need right in front of her that, whatever the truth about her grandparents, her parents had been deeply in love. And equally that it wasn't enough to save anyone.

Padme watched Anakin from her position at the table, eyes large and solemn. Anakin's anger fled him as soon as he met her eyes and he slouched, evaporating in the Force with a suddenness that only made Leia realize how oppressive it was. And how familiar. He rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment, expression twin to the one Leia had seen on Luke's face so many times. Obi-Wan stepped closer to him, hand moving from his shoulder to rub at Anakin's back.

Leia cocked her head at that and felt Luke's attention turn to them as well.

"Huh," he said aloud. "That... actually explains a lot."

Leia shot him a look and he shrugged. It didn't explain anything at all, except that Jedi were more handsy than Luke had ever led her to believe.

It was Yularen who broke the silence, clearing his throat.

"Sir, if I may," Yularen began. It was actually a relief to see him stand and pull his uniform straight, smoothly redirecting the uncomfortable conversation back to the mission. "We do still have the matter of your Padawan's vision to address."

"I agree with the Admiral," Mon Mothma said, though there was distaste on her face.

Anakin nodded and shook off Obi-Wan's touch, giving him an indecipherable look. Currents flowed between them in the Force, but Leia couldn't catch any of the content. It was too focused and too particular. Worse than a private comm channel.

Which was probably how Han felt half the time, she admitted.

"You're right. I don't think sitting around talking is going to get us any further. We know that the Chancellor is most definitely interested in reaching out to us – and that he can send things into this time. And we know that the temporal distortion means that time is passing more quickly for them than for us," Anakin said.

"Which means that Palpatine has a great deal of time to plan, but we have little," Obi-Wan concluded.

Rex frowned.

"Did I miss a step? The order I heard was to keep you safe, Generals."

Leia startled. Luke's arm dropped to his side even as she moved to rest her hand on her blaster. The clones had been safe enough so far. Palpatine had used the opportunity to threaten them rather than execute any commands. As long as he was pretending for the Jedi Council of his own time, they were, presumably, safe, but that didn't make it any more pleasant to look into Captain Rex's face and feel the very known danger of him every time he spoke.

Even Anakin looked wrong footed. His apprentice opened her mouth to respond and then closed it, unsure of what was safe to say.

"I heard that order as well," Padme put in calmly. Her palms were flat on the table, expression schooled into the kind of calm composure that recalled the Queen of Naboo Leia had studied in school. "It seems that in the future Chancellor Palpatine faces some accusations of corruption. I think our friends are merely being overly cautious, not knowing when the change occurs with him."

Rex looked skeptical at her explanation but eventually nodded.

"Guess that's some news to take back to the past, then. Preventative measures."

Obi-Wan let out a deep exhalation and gave him a brief smile.

"Just so."

Anakin ignored them, striding around the curve of the table toward the door. Feeling absolutely no one follow him, he wheeled around to glower at the group, hands gesturing to the door.

"You heard the Admiral. We've got a vision to stop. Easier to do in the air than in a board room."

His teeth flashed as he spoke, eyes hard.

Leia snorted softly to herself. It wasn't any kind of plan, yet she agreed with him. Inaction weighed down on her. She felt the tension in the Force skittering across her nerves, winding her tighter with every passing moment.

"You have my leave," Mon Mothma said. Leia turned to her and watched the woman raise her eyebrows ironically. "If indeed that is what you are waiting for."

Anakin turned on his heel, cloak snapping behind him as he walked out of the room.

"I don't suppose," Obi-Wan put into the silence as everyone stared after Anakin, "that you have his lightsaber on hand?"

Leia rolled her eyes and made to follow Anakin, Luke at her side. Han, and then the rest of the group, rose from the table to join them.

"I'll see that it finds its way down to the hangar, General," Mon Mothma said lightly.

"Thank you, Chancellor," Obi-Wan said.

Leia met her mentor's eyes and gave her a grateful nod before leading the way out of the room. She didn't feel that the meeting had accomplished much in terms of strategy, but at least she was more aware of the dangers now. Her father, of course, and whatever Palpatine himself was ready to unleash on them. That he knew he could reach across time was vital information. She'd become accustomed to the wicked and grotesque man of the dying days of the Empire. It was easy to forget the canny politican who held the Republic and the Jedi Order in his silently duplicitous thrall.

She quickened her pace as she strode down the hall.

The only problem was the man they were sending to confront him. It would be better, she thought, if they could contact the Jedi again. Speak solely to Yoda or that Master Windu and then warn them of Palpatine. She could honestly say that she loved her mother, but she did not trust the woman.

Not when she looked at Anakin the way she did, sympathy and love in her eyes even with full knowledge of his future.

"Sweetheart, I know you're trying," Han said, slightly breathless as he caught up to her at the lifts. She punched the call button and looked up at him. "But your little legs aren't ever going to catch up with him. He's got a meter on you."

"That was Vader, Han," she replied dryly.

He looked at her askance.

"You know what I mean!"

"Yeah... I do."

"And he wasn't that tall."

The lift arrived and Han sidled in, taking her by the arm and flashing a quick salute to Luke before closing the doors in the faces of the rest of the group. Leia shook him off but didn't step away.

"When did he stop being Vader?" Han asked.

Leia shook her head fractionally. She didn't trust him, didn't love him, but she couldn't deny that meeting him had changed her mind. Maybe it was Padme's story about meeting him for the first time. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when he reminded her that he'd grown up a slave – unflinchingly, with no request for sympathy. She'd dismissed his childhood as unimportant the first time Luke brought it up.

But now...

She looked away from Han, into her reflection in the transparisteel. She lifted her hand and touched two fingers to her reflection's eyes. She'd always expected to see herself in her mother.

"I don't know," she told Han and he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

* * *

"Hey!" Anakin shouted. He gestured to the umbilicals still attached to the shuttle and the techs in the hangar traded shifty looks. He swore under his breath. If his reputation in this time was good for one thing, it should have been getting his ship prepped. "Fine, I'll do it myself."

The lead tech, a tall and skinny Bothan with a streak of grease matting the fur on her left arm, rushing to intercept him.

"I don't have orders on that," she said tremulously. Despite her tone, her long snout was obstinately set, fur rippling with determination to stand her ground.

"I'm with the Chancellor," Anakin snapped. He regretted the words as soon as he said them. He gritted his teeth, exhaling an unsteady breath. "With Chancellor Mon Mothma. She's already cleared us, I told you that before."

He planted his fists on his hips, glowering at her until she looked away. It was almost satisfying to watch her shoulders slouch, though she was still slow to follow his command.

"I need to hear it from her, sir," she said.

Anakin snatched a commlink from his belt, one of the extras, and flipped it toward her. She just barely caught it and looked up at him in shock.

"Call her. Unless you don't have clearance."

"I –"

He felt several presences behind him and half turned to acknowledge them as they entered. The entire group had actually acquired more members, guards and at least one of the aides who Mon Mothma had deployed to guide them to their rooms the day before. He caught Leia's eye first, saw the disgust plain on her face and threw a wall of aggravation up in the Force – not a shield, just a flat surface of precisely what she'd need to work around if she thought her disapproval would get anywhere. He gestured to the tech as Leia grudgingly walked over.

"You tell her," Anakin said.

"Prep the ship and secure clearance for takeoff. We're moving as quickly as we can," Leia told the tech. The woman nodded and gave Anakin an abashed look. "And Trey'fan. You were right to wait for _my_ orders."

The Bothan straightened, nodding briskly to Leia before turning back to her underlings to shout a series of orders – all of them precisely what Anakin had been yelling at them only moments before.

"No thank you?" Leia asked, arms crossed in front of her.

She had a lightsaber clutched in one hand and tapped it on her hip as she waited for his answer. It was his lightaber. Anakin restrained the urge to rip it out of her grasp, feeling Obi-Wan's distress in the Force as the thought passed over him.

"Thank you," he said. "For your help."

Leia took his gratitude in the exact vein it was offered and huffed out an irritated breath. Han hung back with the Ahsokas and Rex, taking up a stance as if he was guarding Anakin's Padawan when it was obvious he was just awkwardly avoiding family confrontations. Yularen broke off to harry the techs, while Luke, Padme, and Obi-Wan talked under the nose of an X-Wing. Anakin watched over Leia's shoulder as Luke and Padme embraced, aware that it was the kind of goodbye he should be giving to his son. And to his daughter.

She twisted around to look, if not getting the gist of the thought from Anakin, almost certainly picking Luke's sentiment toward his mother.

"That's just not who we are, is it?" she asked, face still turned away.

The anger and anxiety he felt receded for a moment. Both feelings had been cycling like the tide on Naboo ever since the holocall, since he looked back into the past and saw men he would kill and the man he'd kneel before – all unaware of his betrayal but for the man attempting to foster it.

He looked down to the grease stained, engine scored ferrocrete.

"I meant it, earlier. I am proud of you."

"That doesn't mean anything. You don't even know me."

Anakin nodded and met her eyes.

"It's true."

It was true that he was proud, true that he didn't know her, true that she had every right to dismiss his regard as worthless. The honesty in her eyes was matched by judgment and distrust. In an odd way, he found it comforting.

"Should I go?" he asked in a rush.

He was grateful that she didn't pretend not to know what he was asking.

"I don't know. Will it be different, this time?"

Anakin swallowed deeply.

"I don't know."

Leia tapped the lightsaber against her hip again and then, giving all impression that she was forcing herself to do it before she changed her mind, she thrust it out to him.

"Figure it out."

He sketched a quick bow as he accepted his lightsaber back, letting her lay it flat in his palms before clipping it to his belt. It felt heavier than usual, though he knew he had not yet dishonored it with the blood of his own kind.

It'd already seen plenty of death. That the Tuskens were not his people didn't make it altogether better.

Leia frowned at him, eyes crinkling at the corner as she tentatively extended herself in the Force. She'd caught the edge of that thought and Anakin reacted immediately to shut her out, pain and anger flashing over her face as he did. It was a relief when Luke and Padme approached, their presences working as a balm to the harsh, negative and wholly deserved Force currents running between Anakin and Leia.

Padme let go of Luke's hand, moving to hug Leia, who closed her eyes and sighed, though she didn't return the gesture. Padme pulled back, hands on Leia's shoulders.

At least Leia could smile for her mother, genuine warmth softening all the features that Anakin knew to be his own.

"I'm very glad I met you," Leia said.

"We'll see you again," Padme replied. "And soon."

Her hand slipped from Leia's shoulder, moving to her own flat stomach and Anakin's eyes widened. He really didn't think that was true at all. He wracked his brain for any sense in the Force, any ripple, that would indicate that they had conceived, but felt nothing.

Luke looked bemusement by his ruminations – he supposed the panic showed on his face – and reached out to clasp a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I think you have some time, yet," he said, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I hope so," Anakin said honestly.

"Soon is a matter of perspective, Ani," Padme said. She threw him a flirtatious glance, voice light. She did not let go of Leia, instead putting her arm around her and turning to face him and Luke. "Now come over here."

Leia didn't look entirely outraged by the thought, but Anakin was careful to only place his hand on her back as he embraced his family.

* * *

Ahsoka shrugged into the shuttle's safety restraints, securing herself as they ascended into the upper atmosphere of Coruscant. For all that the Force was beyond her, she thrummed with anticipation. She'd be getting it back soon enough and probably seeing some action beforehand. Much better than sitting around all the time talking out her feelings – she guessed it was the Jedi in her, but she was dead sick of it.

"Are we there yet?" she called, craning her neck to see into the cockpit.

"Yes, Snips," Anakin replied irritably. "We're on the Resolute right now."

She grinned and tapped her foot on the deck. Yularen gave her a dirty look, but didn't ask her to stop.

"You're in good spirits, Commander," Rex said.

Ahsoka bit back her initial reaction, smile fading as she looked at him. She was ready and willing to fight for her future, but she had no idea if Rex would even have that choice.

"Just looking forward to going home, Rex," the other Ahsoka said.

Ahsoka scowled at her immediately. She still didn't even know why she was coming with them. If she thought she was going to steal the Force from her back home too, well, she was going to have a serious fight on her hands. And while her older self may have had at least twenty kilos on Ahsoka, she bet that she'd be able to take her. One of them was definitely more practiced in lightsaber fighting and it wasn't her adult self.

"About that – any idea what has the Generals in such a mood? Skywalker I get, leaving his kids behind and going back to face who knows what from the Jedi. But Kenobi. Does he seem off to anyone else? He keeps looking at me funny."

The other Ahsoka shrugged under her restraints and kicked out her feet, stretching across the narrow gap between the benches.

"It's probably just because of what Skyguy did, melding him with his future self."

"He what?" Yularen asked. He blinked rapidly, mouth gaping before he remembered himself and snapping it shut. "That's hardly possible, even for Skywalker."

She lifted her chin to Ahsoka who sighed in response. She rubbed at her eyes, already feeling tired by the conversation.

"It's true."

Rex looked queasy at the thought.

"Guess I should stop feeling left out, then. If the choice is between knowing a bit of my future and knowing everything…"

Ahsoka crossed her arms to glare at the adult version of herself and Rex followed her gaze, wincing slightly.

"I suppose you've got some of that yourself, then."

"More than enough."

Yularen had a look of consternation on his face. For all that he clearly shared Rex's sentiment regarding being left out of the loop, he had largely accepted it. Which was probably easier to do without a reminder like the adult, blatantly non-Jedi version of Ahsoka hanging around.

"If I may ask," he started. "Why exactly are you coming with us? Shouldn't you be with Skywalker's children?"

His tone was stiff, but not enough to conceal his disdain for the idea of a Jedi having children. Much as Ahsoka had come to like Luke and Leia, she sort of had to agree. It was just _weird_.

The other Ahsoka looked amused at the expression on her face, which just said more about how much she'd changed. She'd lived twenty five years outside the Order, give or take, which was long enough to adapt to how outsiders behaved, to lose those Jedi mores. Ahsoka wouldn't want to give up being a Jedi for anything, but even she knew that coming back with them was giving up a lot – even if she didn't have much of a life to leave behind, it wasn't like non-Jedi had a terribly easy time fitting in at the Temple.

"After the Order gave up on me, I felt like I couldn't trust myself," Ahsoka said calmly. She leaned back in her seat, tall montrals nearly scraping the wall Her hand covered the blaster at her side, a pointed sign of who she was now. "Even after… everything, I was angry with them. There were days I thought they deserved it. It took a long time for me to forgive the Order."

"But you still haven't forgiven yourself," Ahsoka concluded, narrowing her eyes at the woman.

The worst thing was that she could almost imagine feeling that way, being that angry. If she were rejected, if she thought she failed, if she'd already lost everything – why would she care when the Order fell?

She shivered at the thought.

"I could have done more. And this time, I will."

"Sorry, but what exactly is 'everything'?" Rex asked, looking warily between the two of them. "What did the Jedi deserve?"

Yularen sighed. Ahsoka knew that he'd gotten part of the story, but she wasn't clear on exactly how much. His attitude about Anakin hadn't changed, so definitely not that part.

The other Ahsoka looked at him contemplatively.

"You do deserve to know. You have as much right to make your own future as any of us."

"What are you doing?" Ahsoka hissed out. She leaned forward in her restraints and then shot a furtive glance to the cockpit. She could see the Resolute looming in front of them, Anakin slowing them as they received their approach vector for the blue-glowing docking bay. They were all but home free and here Ahsoka was risking everything! "He already said he didn't want to know."

Rex frowned at her.

"Well, it's not like I knew what I didn't know. If something happened to the Jedi, I think I ought to know. Something's just not right here."

Ahsoka pressed her lips together in frustration.

"I'm blaming you," she told her future self.

The older woman put her thumb in her restraints, pulling on them in demonstration.

"I think there's no better time than right now," she said.

Rex and Yularen both looked confused, but didn't have time to ask exactly why this was a conversation best had while Rex was buckled in, with no access to a weapon. Except, of course, Ahsoka's blaster, she thought, narrowing her eyes at it.

"The Jedi Order will fall and all the members, to a one, will be hunted down and murdered," Ahsoka said. The pain in her eyes was distant, tempered by the will to change things that Ahsoka herself felt. She didn't have time to feel upset over something that would not happen. Yularen nodded; he'd known that much. She raised her hand to stop Rex from speaking. "The first order will go out to the clones commanders, who will gun down their Jedi Generals in the field. The second is to Anakin, who will turn to the Dark Side and burn the Temple itself."

"I –" Rex shuddered visibly, hands shaking as he ran them over his close cut hair. "I wouldn't do that. Orders are one thing, but that's murder!"

"You won't have a choice," she continued. "It's part of the programming from Kamino."

He swallowed deeply. His hands were shaking as he looked down at them, probably thinking of the Jedi he would kill with them. Most of the way, the clones had been the clean fighters. They fought droids and whatever Master Skywalker said, it really just wasn't the same as killing a living being. For all that they were an army, very few of them had ever killed.

"I see. I suppose that is why the clones were locked up," Yularen said. He narrowed his eyes. "But not Skywalker? What of him?"

Ahsoka laughed.

"He was locked up, actually, when we got here. You know how well that works on Skyguy."

Rex jerked at her tone. Ahsoka bit her lip and looked down. It was fair, she thought. He had a lot to think about. There was no reason she could expect that he'd be ready for jokes.

"What's the trigger?" he asked, eyes fervent as he stared at the other Ahsoka. "How do I stop it? We're clones, not just mindless machines! There's got to be a way –"

She shook her head and Ahsoka reached across the gap between the benches, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"We don't know. But, I promise you, it's not going to happen."

"Sure, Commander. That's why you wanted to tell me."

Feeling queasy, Ahsoka dropped her hand into her lap. The ship whirred as it settled into a landing cycle, gears moving the wings back into their vertical position. Anakin landed them onto the hangar deck with only the slightest jolt from contact – a far cry from their many crash landings.

Anakin, Padme, and Obi-Wan quietly unbuckled themselves in the cockpit and made their way into the seating area. Anakin immediately caught onto the tension in the room. He waved his hand at Ahsoka's restraints and offered her a hand up, which she took with a small scowl. She wasn't a youngling, but she'd learned to let him have his little gestures sometimes. He got a little sensitive if she always refused, and at least he was always happy to take it when she offered help in return.

"Following my example, Snips?" he asked.

"No!"

"Yes," the other Ahsoka said. She'd unbuckled herself and stood, slouching with her hip cocked. "I told Rex everything."

Obi-Wan shaded his eyes ruefully.

"Oh my."

Anakin gave a half shrug and then also offered his hand to Rex.

"Well, Rex, I promise not to snap and murder everyone if you promise the same thing."

"Sir, I'm not sure…"

"And," he said emphatically, "I'll help you keep your word if you help me keep mine. And that's an order, by the way."

Rex snapped to attention.

"Sir!"

"Well, as long as that's settled," Padme said wryly. "Perhaps we should head to the bridge."

As one, the other Jedi all turned toward the cockpit. Ahsoka glared at them. They could at least say what it was they were sensing!

"Or we could prepare fighters," Obi-Wan said.

"Yeah. I think … that second one," Anakin agreed.

Just outside the cockpit, past the blue force field protecting the hangar bay, Ahsoka could see the rift fluctuating. It brightened and curved, folding in on itself and then stretching out again, thinning as it pulled into a long, narrow crack in space. And then it flashed a searing white that made Ahsoka blink spots from her vision.

"Oh, just wonderful," Obi-Wan said.

"I don't know what you expected," Anakin replied. He was already striding out onto the gangplank, gloved hand near his mouth as he spoke into his commlink. "Did you feel that too, Luke?"

Ahsoka looked to her older self.

"It's happening?" she asked.

The woman rubbed her fingers across her brow, looking entirely displeased as she nodded. Ahsoka couldn't say she disagreed. Didn't the Resolute have orders to shoot first?

Ahsoka sighed.

"Which one?" she asked. "I'm assuming Grievous or Ventress, right?"

"I'm afraid not, young one. It's Dooku," Obi-Wan replied darkly.

Because it just wasn't a party without a Sith Lord. Ahsoka swore colorfully and, for once, Anakin didn't even reprimand her.


	10. Chapter 10

"We know why the Resolute didn't shoot it down," Anakin said. His voice was flat and grim, familiar in how it carried across the comlink, echoing off the hangar walls. "We can't get a lock this close to the rift."

"So, just shoot without a lock!" Han said irritably.

Luke covered the comlink, cocking his head to glare at Han.

"Do you mind?" he hissed out.

Han threw his hands up and turned, walking away a pacing with his hands in his hair. Leia pressed her lips together and shook her head, looking back to Luke.

"We'll get Coruscant Space Traffic Control on it," she told Anakin. "And hope those pleasure yachts know when to get the hell out of the way."

Traffic Control had tried to keep the orbit near the rift and the Resolute relatively clear of civilian ships, but there was ultimately only so much that could actually be done. Some New Republic citizens just weren't that intelligent or good at judging risks when rubbernecking at strange phenomena, and plenty more simply didn't care. They'd rather chart a course near what appeared to be a Star Destroyer than wait for another trajectory to be fed to their navicomputers.

"What are you planning?" Luke asked.

Anticipation tingled along his nerves. He looked not to Leia, but out the open bay of the hangar, toward the broken crescent of sky barely visible past the high rising buildings of the palace district. The rift was visible from this vantage point, bright above the Coruscant skyline as twilight dimmed the city. An hour longer, perhaps, and it would disappear from view entirely, but he'd be able to sense it just the same. The strange depth of energy, infinite in all directions, now stained by the Dark Side.

He wanted to be up there, flying next to his father.

Anakin gave a long exhalation, made electronic and harsh by the transmission software. Leia shuddered lightly.

"We're going after him. Obi-Wan and I can track Dooku in the Force, figure out what he's up to."

"Isn't he here for you?" Leia asked.

"That's what I thought. But he came out of the rift hot, went right past us. If he'd made to board the Resolute, we'd know by now. I don't sense him up here and I don't sense …" he trailed off, frustration hardening his voice as he finished, "I don't sense his purpose."

"The Dark Side clouds everything," Ben put in. He sounded as calm and at ease as a man possibly could right before facing down a Sith Lord. "We shall do our part, young Luke. But remain mindful. I sense there is more afoot than simply chasing down an errant Sith."

Luke shared a look with Leia. They could sense as much themselves.

"Great," Han groused.

"May the Force be with you," Luke told Ben and Anakin over the comm.

"And with you," Ben replied immediately. Anakin mumbled along, distracted and annoyed by whatever it was he sensed – or didn't – in the Force.

Luke lowered the comlink from his mouth, passing it to Leia so she could shout at Space Traffic Control. He suppressed a smile and raised his eyebrows in Han's direction.

"What now?" he asked. He wanted someone to tell him because he knew he was a split second away from haring off toward the nearest X-Wing and he was honestly having trouble coming up with reasons that was a bad idea.

Han seemed entirely aware of his inclinations. He clapped a friendly, restraining arm around Luke's shoulders.

"Kid, the last place I want the Falcon," Han said, waving to the prepped ship in front of them, "is anywhere near that rift."

Chewie howled his disagreement from the Falcon's undercarriage. He'd been working on the ship since everyone descended to the hangar bay for this exact reason and he didn't think Han's fussy and overprotective tendencies were a good reason to avoid a battle.

Han blinked rapidly as he took in the offensive growls.

"Hey, who are you calling a motherhen?"

Chewie gave a long, snuffling laugh in response and Han rolled his eyes.

"Ignore him, would you? They've got an entire battle cruiser," Han reminded Luke. "And starfighters. They can handle it."

"It's a Sith Lord," he replied tensely.

Luke frowned as he looked once more out the open hangar. The Sith Lord's presence in the Force was muddled and odd, difficult to pin down. Anakin said they'd track him in the Force rather than with their sensors, but Luke didn't see any reason they would be having an easier time than he was, experience or not. There was an odd slickness to Dooku's presence and Luke didn't know what to make of it, even as the man seemed to loom continually larger in the Force.

"Sure, Luke, but he's a Sith Lord on a ship. It's not like he's landing anywhere for a duel – and even if he does board them, he's facing down four Jedi and, no offense, they're probably a little better at handling Sith than you are."

Leia's sense in the Force shivered with trepidation at Han's statement; he was doing a good job at having the opposite of effect what he intended. She handed the comlink back to Luke, expression tight with worry.

He was thinking precisely the same thing she was. Four Jedi on the ship and none had stopped the Republic from falling. He cared for Anakin – loved him, respected him, wished they had more time with each other – yet he still could not shake the nagging doubt that he was the absolute worst person to be facing down a Sith Lord right now.

Han looked between them, clearly disgruntled.

"Fine! But what good are we going to be up there?"

"I don't know! But I don't want to just wait around and –" he broke off, staring out the hangar. The bright line of the rift fluxed and flashed again. "Something else came through."

"Anything we can fight?" Han asked. He sounded somewhere between bored and frustrated.

Luke shot him an irritated glance.

"What do I look like, a pair of macros?"

"How do I know what you can sense?"

"Han, Luke! Stop it!" Leia pushed them apart, frowning as she attempted to focus her sense in the Force on the object coming through the rift. She got no more than Luke had, however, and flagged down a tech, pointing at the bright spot breaking apart from the tear in the sky that was the rift. "Sergeant Chen, what is that?"

Chen narrowed his eyes and keyed the controls on his wrist band, calling over another tech and two droids. Amid the fuss, Threepio and Artoo had also found their way over and Artoo extended his sensor array, rotating it as he tried to get a fix on the object. Another of the droids, an R4 model made a curious sound only to be sternly and nastily rebuked by Artoo.

The droids eventually pinged over a small wire frame model to Chen, which he displayed above his wristband.

Han gave a low whistle.

"Looks like they might be occupied by more than a Sith Lord," Leia said.

Luke nodded.

"Big ship."

Han made a disbelieving sound.

"Big ship?" He stepped away from Luke and grabbed Chen's arm to wave the wire frame model toward Luke's face. "That's the Invisible Hand! Grievous's command ship."

Luke frowned as the Force rippled in warning. There was something more to it, elusive. Just as Ben had warned.

"Wasn't that their last mission?" Leia asked aloud.

"It was," Luke said, nodding contemplatively. "The last mission Father and Ben completed together before the fall of the Republic. They rescued Palpatine from the bridge of the Invisible Hand."

Han's excitement dissipated.

"But he's not here, right?" he asked suspiciously. "You two would sense him."

"I – yes. We'd sense him. He's not here," Luke said firmly.

"It's a coincidence, Han. I'm sure they fought Grievous on that ship plenty of times."

It was obvious that Han was starting to come around, despite his obstinacy. He hardly trusted Anakin more than Luke did – an understatement, to be sure – and he always had trouble seeing coincidences as anything else. But even he could see this was destiny come to play once more, putting Anakin back into exactly the situation he'd been in when he left the past. And they all knew how disastrous that had been.

Two days in the future with his children, for all the revelations they'd had together, wasn't enough to push the past off course and the wheels of the Force were still turning, intent for Anakin obvious.

"Sir," Chen protested. He extricated his arm from Han's grasp and shook it out.

Han looked affronted rather than apologetic.

"You know what I'm talking about, right?" he looked over Chen, not actually pointing at the man's gray hair, but definitely gesturing toward it. "You remember."

"I do," Chen said cautiously.

"Then you can tell these two that Skywalker and Kenobi have got it handled. All that other stuff… that came later," Han said. He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Luke.

Chen did not look like he wanted to weigh in on the argument at all.

"I had the action figures," he offered when it became clear that Han wasn't going to just let him leave.

"See!" Han smiled brightly at Luke and Leia, as if he'd just proven something. "Nothing to worry about!"

"I think the fate of the galaxy is a little more important than the Falcon's paint job, Han," Leia said after a long pause.

"But it's new!"

"Han!"

"He's right," Luke said. He blinked, startled at the words coming out of his mouth, but as he thought of them he became more and more sure. He wanted to fly with his father, but the Force was guiding him toward something else. He furrowed his brow as he tried to follow the thread of fate calling him through the Force.

"I agree with General Solo," Chen put in. Leia swung around to glare at him and he faltered momentarily. "I remember the Battle of Coruscant – the first one. No one else but Skywalker and Kenobi could have won that battle. And _no one_ but Skywalker could have landed the Invisible Hand. They can handle one ship, even if it is Grievous."

"Landed?" Luke asked blankly.

That did not sound good. A ship of that size was never meant to land at all, certainly not on Coruscant. He shook his head to dismiss the distraction. That wasn't the fate meant to play out here again today. He just needed to concentrate…

"Crash land," Chen confirmed.

"Wait, _one ship_?" Leia asked. She grabbed Chen's arm and called up the wire frame display again, punching at the controls until the full scope of the rift's orbital path was on display. She clenched her jaw as she stared at it. "It's supposed to be two ships!"

"Where'd the kriffing Sith Lord go?" Han asked.

"I'm trying to find that out," Leia snapped back at him.

"Princess," Chen said in distress. She let go and allowed him to manipulate the display controls, his movements growing more frantic as he failed to pick up the small ship. "That imposs –"

Luke's hand brushed against his lightsaber twice before he detached it from his belt, the cold metal a comfort against the searing heat in the Force. The rift in the sky remained the same, yet underneath it, a new scar in the sky was forming. Smoke from a ship, shields melting off during reentry.

They were right. Dooku was coming in hot. He was also coming directly toward them.

"It's entirely possible. I'd back away, if I were you," he told them all.

Luke brought up his lightsaber, igniting it as the fireball of a ship careened ever closer. He really hoped he wasn't about to regret this.

* * *

Rex broke from directing his troops into formation – acting like a bunch of shinies, they were, you'd think they'd never gone through transit and redeployment – to listen to the distinct sound of metal shearing apart.

"Hull breach!" Jesse shouted in an instant before the alarms went off.

The 501st had assembled in the hangar bay, waiting on orders and figuring it'd be sky they'd see today rather than any kind of land combat. Rex still wasn't entirely clear on the General's plan, but if Dooku had come all the way to the future to play, he'd soon be facing down the best pilots of the Open Circle Fleet. They were itching for action after all the time cooped up down on Coruscant.

Rex found himself wishing Dooku had brought more with him than just himself. Infantry got awfully bored during space battles.

He made his way through the red haze of alarms, going to one of the control panels. He could hear the violent expulsion of air through the tear in the hull; it was nearby, no more than a few decks. Just as quickly, the emergency doors clapped shut to seal off that section of the ship.

The comm panel on the wall beeped and Rex nodded to Echo who keyed it on.

"It seems the situation has progressed well beyond what we first thought," Admiral Yularen said.

Rex raised his eyebrows, looking among his men. Yularen wasn't usually the one to get in contact for anything less than direct orders.

"Yessir. What's our status? We were hit?" he asked.

Yularen sucked air against his teeth. It was easy to envision the uncomfortable expression on his face – familiar from how often the General provoked it.

"Not as such. We have more than one ship that we are facing. Our initial readings were merely of Dooku's solarsailer, but the Invisible Hand just came through the rift."

Rex smiled grimly at the news.

"I take it Skywalker wants his fighter after all?" he asked.

He nodded to Oddball and the others, cuing techs to scramble on their final checks of the fighters. Rex had planned on Skywalker and Kenobi giving chase to Dooku in their ships as soon as they boarded, but they'd gone to the upper decks to monitor the situation. Kenobi feared the gravitational effect the rift would have on small fighters and his caution rubbed off on Skywalker for once.

"Thankfully, no," Yularen said crisply. Jesse grumbled, only to be elbowed in the gut by Hardcase. "We shall be engaging in direct ship to ship combat momentarily, with fighters as a last resort. However, that sound you heard was the Resolute being boarded. General Skywalker wants you and a task force to join him on deck 1138."

That was the floor just above. Exactly where the indicator lights on the wall were telling him not to go. The hull breach.

The comm channel closed and Rex turned to look at his men.

"You heard him, boys," he said. He singled out Echo, Hardcase, and Tup, pointing at them and jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the door. "The General knows where the action is and we're headed in with him."

"Tinnies made their way on board, you think?" Hardcase asked.

They formed up behind Rex, doing a few basic checks on their armor and blasters before nodding their readiness to him. He made a hand signal to Jesse that they were ready to leave before turning his attention back to his squad.

"Could be," Rex conceded, though he thought it had to be more serious than that. If Skywalker thought it was a better bet than chasing down Dooku, it had to be serious. More than just a few clever buzz droids that figured out how to hack hull.

Rex led the men out of the hangar and down two corridors, jogging in step as the red breach lights flashed. He shook his head once to clear the disorientation from the light and then depressed a button on the underside of his helmet.

"Switch to low vision," he told the others.

It didn't quite help. There was something off – since he'd talked to Commander Tano, he hadn't felt right. Rex's pace quickened with the thought.

"Sir, the lift," Echo protested as Rex levered open a heavy emergency hatch leading to a set of stairs.

"Exercise'll do you good. Been sitting like a lump in the barracks too long, soldier."

He was sweating inside his helmet as he led them up. Couldn't wipe it away. He adjusted his armor, sure that it was the problem. Hot up here in space.

Skywalker turned to catch his attention when they reached the deck above. He was crouched next to a set of blast doors, his little astromech plugged in nearby.

"Glad you could make it," Skywalker said. He placed one hand on the droid and frowned to himself, looking Rex over. "You remember that promise, Captain?"

Rex came to attention.

"I remember."

That wasn't the problem. It was just stuffy up here. Rex didn't know what'd come over him. Normally the Resolute was as snug and homey as any old bunk on Kamino. He was slacking more than any of his brothers if just a couple days bed rest had him out of sorts like this.

"It's not going to be easy. But I told you. I got your back if you've got mine – and you do have my back, right, Captain?"

Rex exhaled unsteadily. He felt – he couldn't describe it. There was something to having the Jedi lead, he knew that. Their presences in the Force, their confidence, their sense of power. A good Jedi General didn't just keep that to himself. He extended it to his men around him. Bound them together with a sense of purpose, honored their lives and their fight with his own.

Skywalker did it unconsciously, effortlessly. It was just a part of who he was.

And it was why Rex would follow him anywhere.

"Always, sir," he replied.

Skywalker grinned and stood, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

"Good. You had me worried there. Now, we've got Grievous locked down on the other side of this blast door. He's smart but not smart enough. Thought he'd blow through our emergency procedures and end up on the right side of containment. But _he's_ in there while _we're_ out here."

"Not so smart, then," Tup said with a chuckle.

"Exactly. But the problem is that I'd really like to be in there right now. Dismantling him."

General Kenobi and Commander Tano rounded a corner down the length of the corridor, jogging their way over. Tano brandished something in one hand, eager light in her eyes.

"Is that a bomb?" Rex asked.

"Looks like a bomb," Echo said.

A grin tugged at Tano's lips – all the confirmation Rex needed of what she was holding – as she affixed the bomb to the door. She tossed a look the General's way and he gave her a swift, sure nod of approval.

"I'd stand back," Kenobi advised them.

He waved them around the corner and then took position next to Skywalker, both standing with their hands out, ready to deflect shrapnel when it came. Tano ducked in close to Skywalker, peeking out around him with her eyes narrowed as she pressed the detonator on her wrist.

The explosion resounded down the corridor, smoke and fire bursting forth before they were quickly sucked into the hole the bomb had blasted. Kenobi batted aside the debris that flew toward the group while Skywalker broke the shockwave. Rex and the boys hunkered down into low cover positions, looking down at the deck plates to protect their visors from spidering. Their armor could withstand the shock of the blast, but they'd put themselves as much out of harm's way as possible, behind the nearest corner. Wind rushed past – not a gale, but a clear sign that the section of the ship hadn't yet fully finished repressurizing.

Skywalkers's eyes glinted with determination, thoughts following the same path as Rex's. Grievous was still in there.

"By the numbers, boys," he said. "I'll lead. Snips, you try to flank him. Rex, Echo take any shot you have at him while Jesse and Tup cut off his exit routes. We don't need another hull breach. Don't think we'll breathe vacuum quite as well as that bucket of bolts does."

"Yessir," Rex said grimly. He didn't like firing with his Jedi in the way, no matter how often they assured him they wouldn't be there when the shot hit. He liked it even less knowing what his future was, but he'd made Skywalker a promise and he intended to stick to it.

"And what shall I do, Anakin?" Kenobi asked, good humor coloring his voice.

Skywalker shrugged uncomfortably.

"What did you do the last time?"

Rex frowned at that. If anyone knew about Kenobi's battle record with Grievous, it ought to have been Skywalker. He'd complained more than once that if they just faced the cyborg together, they'd finally put an end to him and the war.

"I doubt my battle with Grievous will shed much light on this particular situation." Skywalker rolled his eyes and Kenobi shrugged. "I dueled him directly and destroyed two of his component arms. Then he attempted to escape and I gave chase. I eventually halted him and killed him with a blaster."

Tano turned in place, pivoting slowly on one foot to look at Kenobi with wide eyes.

"A _blaster_."

Kenobi flushed slightly.

"Yes, well, I do know how to aim one. Needs must."

Despite the lack of obvious tactical relevance, Skywalker mulled over Kenobi's words for a long moment. He pressed his lips into a firm line, looking among the assemblage.

"Keep it in mind, then. You're with me. We'll take him together," he said, smiling faintly. He nodded to everyone else and gestured for Ahsoka to stay by his side. "Enough chatter. Follow my lead and we'll get that coward yet."

Tano unhooked her lightsabers from her belt and followed Skywalker back to the door. The lock had been blown, nothing more, and Rex could make out the scraping sound of Grievous's clawed feet on the deck plates – distant and retreating. If Seppie intel was any good, he knew that there was no direct route from here up to the bridge, but that didn't mean there weren't several entirely decent targets nearby. Grav, for one. Sub-light boosters. A couple of comm hubs and internal systems depots. Not a pretty picture, if Grievous got into any of them, though Rex figured his real target was actually out here.

Didn't travel twenty five years into the future just to sabotage the holocomm, after all.

Skywalker levered the door the rest of the way open with the Force and then, lightsaber lit, cautiously entered the cordoned off breach zone. Tano was several steps behind him, pressed to the far wall, while Kenobi took the middle path, wary but not yet drawing his weapon.

Signaling to Echo with two fingers, Rex brought his blaster to ready, sight lined up to his eye, and followed the Jedi down the short corridor.

It was only a moment before they heard the familiar, rasping cough of Grievous. He was just around the corner from the sound of things.

"You might as well come out," Kenobi called as he and Skywalker caught up to Rex. Tano hung back at their direction long enough for Rex and Echo to get into position.

The corridor was tight, he realized. It was one of the pressurized access tunnels for repairs. A perfect way into the ship because any breach could easily seal off while still offering him a route to traverse the ship. Whatever fight Kenobi had talked about wasn't going to play out here. Rex wasn't sure that he could get a shot off without it ricocheting and killing him, let alone one that wouldn't hit the Jedi, Force or not. Definitely not a place where any kind of chase would place out.

Kenobi and Skywalker walked out into the center of the corridor. There would be little space around them to fire, but the tightness of their field of play limited Greivous as well.

Rex knelt down at the joint between the corridors, Echo taking high cover, weapon fixed on Grievous's ugly mask. The cyborg tilted it curiously as he looked over Skywalker, who flipped his lightsaber over his hand in a mocking salute.

"General Kenobi," Grievous sneered, voice gravelly. "And … Anakin Skywalker?"

"None other," Skywalker replied.

"I was expecting someone a little bit older. For your reputation."

"So was I," Tano agreed loudly. Skywalker's cocky posture slipped as he darted a look toward her, shaking his head to dissuade her from drawing Grievous's attention. She smirked at him instead – flank did not mean distract in Rex's book, but giving the Generals an opening was as good a tactic as any. "And someone prettier."

"Snips! Not the time. We are gonna have some words about this later!"

Grievous loosed an unpleasant, hacking laugh.

"He will not be any prettier," Grievous grated out, "when I am done with him."

His eyes gleamed yellow behind his face mask, skin around his eyes pulling tight with his hidden expression.

"How much vacuum did you suck in? 'Cause you sound a little worse for wear – gotta say, I'm not sure you could give Skyguy a haircut in this condition," Tano continued.

Grievous twitched his head angrily, looking to the side, and it was enough. Rex opened fire as Skywalker charged forward. He jumped up the side of the corridor, caroming off it as he launched himself toward Grievous, dodging between the red bolts of Rex's blaster fire with ease. Grievous grunted with anger and growled out a harsh curse, mechanical arm just quick enough to reach for a lightsaber before Skywalker's blade would have severed his artificial neck from his body.

His stolen lightsaber spat plasma as Skywalker's blade crashed down on his.

"What was that," Skywalker called, "about a haircut?"

"I'm just saying."

Tano shrugged slightly, eyes narrowed as she concentrated on the scene down the hall. Flanking was entirely out as an option, but Jedi had more than one trick up their sleeve. Kenobi hung back as he watched the fight proceed, lightsaber in his palm.

Echo snapped off several shots, trying to herd Grievous into Skywalker's blade as they exchanged blows.

Kenobi cringed at Grievous's lightsaber technique.

"Honestly," he said softly. Pitching his voice louder, he directed Skywalker, "Disarm him, if you please. We could use some information on what Dooku's plan is."

Skywalker pivoted on once foot, ducking under one of Rex's blasts, and struck clean through Grievous's left pair of arms. He tossed a cheeky grin Kenobi's way.

"Half way there! I can't believe you thought this guy was –"

His words were choked off as Grievous struck through his guard, dropping his lightsaber to seize Skywalker by the throat and lift him off his feet.

"Master!"

Tano put out one hand, ripping a panel off the blast door behind Grievous to smack it into his shoulder. He didn't even stumble under the blow, but then Kenobi stepped next to Tano and added his efforts to hers.

"Keep firing, Captain," he commanded. His eyes were half lidded and his voice steady with a calm that almost seemed otherworldly, even for a Jedi. He raised his hand. "Aim for the ceiling."

Echo and Rex followed orders and the ceiling soon burned bright under the blaster fire. One corner of a panel glowed white hot, metal dripping in a long, smoldering streak that Grievous dodged with an unpleasant, hoarse grunt. Together, Kenobi and Tano ripped the heated metal down directly onto Grievous, who in turn dropped Skywalker back onto his feet – he just barely got one hand up to deflect the raw and molten durasteel from landing on his head.

Skywalker's eyes were wide as he looked at the pool of white durasteel floating above him. He flicked his hand to the side to direct it into the wall, nose scrunched up, and leveled a glare back at Kenobi.

"Next time, warn me."

"Of course. I'll endeavor to warn your enemies as well," Kenobi replied easily. "On that note ..."

Grievous had recuperated, drawing another lightsaber from his now metal cloak. Skywalker sighed as he reignited his lightsaber, bringing it up to catch the blow directed at his back.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to do this, Master," he said.

"Anakin, please."

"Nope, sorry. I'm trying, but I'm just not feeling it."

Grievous's rough laughter rumbled through the hall. He shifted his cloak in front on him and it blazed again under Rex's blasterfire.

"You fools! Even the great Anakin Skywalker –"

His words died abruptly as Skywalker lightsabered him in the face, shifting his grip on the hilt to drag it down Grievous's body, twisting it in the chest cavity until the metal armor around Grievous's remaining organs melted into a pool at his feet. He snapped the blade off and brushed his sweaty hair off his forehead.

"Sorry, Master."

The remainder of Grievous crumpled to the ground. Exchanging a look with Echo, Rex lowered his weapon and rose back to his feet.

"I know you wanted information," Skywalker continued. He didn't sound even slightly contrite.

"Eh, what was he even going to tell us?" Tano said. She cupped her hands around her mouth and mimicked Grievous's guttural growl. "'The Republic will fall before me!'"

Kenobi didn't seem to think it was funny.

"May I remind you that Grievous was sent to the future by a Sith Lord, derailing his plans in the past for reasons unknown to us – and reasons that will apparently remain unknown to us."

That didn't get through to Skywalker. If anything, he looked even more obstinate, jaw going hard at the mention of the Sith.

"Anakin. It is not my children down there," Kenobi added tightly.

Skywalker exhaled slowly, eyes closing briefly as he nodded.

"Seems like they can probably handle it," Rex offered. "I mean, they're your kids, sir."

Luke wore a lightsaber and they didn't just hand those out, plus that Leia seemed like a pistol. He'd be willing to bet that girl was just as dangerous as her father was.

"What's a Sith Lord to Skywalkers, anyway, right? Bet they've seen it all before," Echo said.

If anything, Skywalker's expression darkened.

"They certainly have."

He stalked past them with a flourish, cloak trailing after. Kenobi sighed and gave chase while Tano angled a look up at Echo.

"Did you have to?"

* * *

 

Ozone seared Dooku's nostrils. He inhaled sharply as he came to his senses. His viewscreen was a mass of rippled and melted plasteel, while nearly all the instrumentation in front of him was burned out. A proximity alert flickered on and off with what he presumed was irony. The air inside of the cockpit of his ship still shimmered in front of him with heat. Re-entry was never supposed to be conducted without shielding, though he certainly would have turned them on had he been conscious.

That accursed rift! He glared at the instrument panel in front of him, still smeared with his blood from where he'd hit his head, and stood unsteadily. He ripped off his cape and discarded it onto the floor.

Sidious and his damnable foresight. He'd insisted that travel through the rift was entirely safe, a worthwhile risk in order to rid the galaxy permanently of the hypocritical Jedi Order feigning to guide its future. Clearly that was not so. That Skywalker had survived the journey to this era spoke only to his sheer hardheadedness.

Buffeted by the Force and nearly torn apart by the unnatural causality waves inside the rift, Dooku had lost both consciousness and control. He was lucky indeed that he'd programmed the solarsailer for emergency situations, homing in on the nearest port during landfall.

Of course, this put a considerable dent into his plans. Sidious desired Skywalker – or a personage of emotional importance to him – to be brought back through the rift. The Senator, Dooku assumed, though he'd planned on killing two mynocks with one blow and kidnapping Kenobi instead. But where ever they were, it most certainly wasn't in a random hangar that his navicomp had plucked out of the ether as a somewhat safe haven for repairs.

He paused at the thought. There was no randomness in the universe. There was no luck or chance. There was only the Force, its whims and will.

And Skywalker... he was nearer than Dooku had initially supposed. Breathing in, he grew more and more sure. He focused on his annoyance with the whelp, his aggravation at Sidious's obvious fascination with him. He thought Skywalker was to be one of the true founders of his Empire, that he would dig the graves of the Jedi and usher in ten thousand years of darkness. Whether he wished it or not. Despite his obvious power, Dooku took a more jaundiced view. Skywalker was too unstable to be much use to anyone, even if he did turn. More likely he'd just die in a spectacular battle.

Which sounded precisely like something Dooku would enjoy watching.

The anger gave Dooku power, but it was furtive and elusive, adding murk to the Force rather than sharpening it for him. Unusual. The Dark Side had become so familiar in the past decade, a friend that he'd held at bay too long. Now, present though it was, as possessive of him as he was of it, the power was distinctly lessened.

He could sense the rift above, the presence of Jedi, but he had difficulty pinning down precisely where and who.

The cockpit's viewport, small as it was, did lend some clarity to the situation, however.

Skywalker, as he knew him, was most certainly not in this hangar. However, the young man with sandy hair and a lit lightsaber in his hand, the one the Force danced around as he steadfastly walked toward the still smoking ship – that boy was _a_ Skywalker. Dooku was sure of it.

A wry smile twisted his lips. And to think, his Master was missing out on this. Dare not to enter the rift and reap not the benefit of true foreknowledge, Dooku thought. Meet the future, however...

And unlock all the secrets of the past.

He turned stiffly, body still bruised from the rough landing, and made his way out of the remnants of his ship.

Dooku looked around the bay curiously after he exited. The hangar was a functional looking sort. Not as weathered as those on the CIS ships he commanded, nor as well kept and pristine as the rarely used hangars on Serenno where they had few visitors and certainly little cause for warships to make emergency landings.

There were clear improvements on design, though not quite as much as he would have expected in the time span that had passed. Sidious had said it was twenty five years into the future. A long period of peace, Dooku concluded. It was only war that generated great technological advances as each side raced to better the other.

Or, perhaps, not peace. But an extremely inequitable conflict.

In either case, it was unacceptable. Sidious was quite sure his plot had somehow failed and, in addition to acquiring a hostage of value, he had tasked Dooku with figuring out precisely how he'd gone awry.

Dooku pondered how to broach the question with the three young people currently attempting to surround him. Smiling lightly, he raised his hands.

"My, I expected better hospitality," he said, elongating his vowels. His attention was steady on the approaching boy, who immediately rolled his eyes at his words. The taller man had moved behind Dooku and nudged him with his blaster and he found himself restraining himself from that exact expression. The man did not have the Force and Dooku felt free to disregard the threat. "But perhaps it's because I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Dooku, Count of Serenno."

He tucked his fingers into his belt, hands on his hip. Suspicion flickered on the boy's face and then he shook his head, giving up on the idea of bothering to trust Dooku. He held out his hand and Dooku's lightsaber flew into it. He clipped it to his belt, shifting to hold his own lightsaber in both hands.

"Pleasure's mine, I'm sure. My name is Luke –"

"Skywalker," Dooku finished for him.

Shock radiated out from Luke, blue eyes darting over Dooku's shoulder to his other friend, the girl. Dooku half turned to look at her as he felt the Force currents divert – they didn't merely use the Force to send emotions and thoughts to each other, Dooku realized. They changed the Force itself, pulling it with them. Even worse, they attracted t because it already wished to be with them.

Skywalkers, he thought. Though perhaps not quite the curse on the galaxy their father was. It was much easier to see the fascination these creatures held for Sidious when they were stripped of Anakin's appalling personality and flaws. They were something entirely different in the Force from other Jedi.

"And you, my dear?" he asked the girl. "Your brother was kind enough to introduce himself. Surely you are at least as mannered as he."

"Leia," she bit out. "And it's Organa, actually."

"Is it?"

He was already uninterested. Her name was immaterial. That she had married into House Organa was mere trivia to be filed away and dissected later, when he and Sidious had the opportunity to try to divine meaning from his jaunt to the future.

"Maybe I should formalize our meeting." She laid her blaster against the back of his neck, cool metal against his still overheated flesh. It was a relief to be out of the ship, though the hospitality was indeed lacking. "My name is Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan and you are under arrest."

Dooku sighed. He met the boy's eyes and raised his eyebrows. Luke firmed his grip on Dooku's lighsaber in the Force, shaking his head subtly to ward him off of pulling it back. That was hardly Dooku's intention, however.

He instead ducked down under the two blasters leveled at him, pivoting on one foot as he brought his hands up. He jerked the man's hand aside, bringing the blaster to bear at Leia while he held her in place.

"Son of a mynock!" the man swore. His face contorted in helpless rage, fingers trying to go limp as Leia's eyes widened in horror.

She grunted and fought against Dooku's hold, head snapping to the side in fury as she resisted.

A smile touched his lips. A Skywalker she might be – the power around whorled with the fierceness of a newborn star – but she was unfocused, barely trained. As poor a showing as young Kenobi had made in his efforts to leash Anakin's power, his daughter was even worse off.

Behind him, he heard a lightsaber ignite.

"I would have thought I made my advantages in this situation clear enough, young Skywalker," Dooku said.

Apparently not, however. He tightened the man's grip around the trigger and squeezed off two shots – they burned past Leia, hitting against an ugly old freighter. The man swore again, with feeling and Leia's expression turned toward irritation.

"You did," Luke admitted. "But I've heard about you. You don't want to press your advantage. You want to beat me in a fair fight."

Dooku's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. He considered the proposition, sincerely meant as it seemed to be. Skywalker's son was trained, but in plainly slipshod manner. He was powerful, yes, frightfully so, but untamed and untempered. He did not have the dangerous wildness of his father, that desert forged heart that seethed with anger, but he did not have a Jedi's stillness either.

He had courage instead.

With no further ado, Dooku released his two captives and turned back to Luke. He held out his hand and smiled at the boy.

"I accept."

Luke nodded, eyes steady on him, and he unclipped Dooku's stolen lightsaber from his belt, tossing it back to the other man.

"Luke, what are you doing?" the man asked warily. His dark eyes looked on in disapproval, mouth pursed.

"Han, it's fine," Luke replied. "I have done this before, you know."

Dooku raised his lightsaber in salute before igniting it. He very much doubted that was true.

"Tell me," he began, swiping idly at Luke to test his defenses. His mental shields were quite strong, regardless of all else and Dooku could not muster the strength in the Dark Side to penetrate them in this time. Words would have to do. "How is it that you came by your training? In my time, it was quite unheard of for the children of a Jedi to remain outside the custody of the Temple, let alone marry."

Luke frowned at that.

"Father mentioned... Anyway, it's complicated."

Dooku thrust directly at Luke, blade caught and deflected to the side. Luke's footwork was decent, for a beginner. They crossed blades several more times, without Luke angling an attack at him once. The girl made an impatient sound off to the side. Dooku had the distinct feeling she was about ready to shoot him and end this little game.

"Imagine so," Dooku said smoothly. He knocked Luke's lightsaber to the side and narrowed his eyes. "You lead with your shoulders and swing too hard. It is a finer weapon than that. It has a tip, an edge. Even the hilt functions as a weapon. You do no service to it with your form."

Luke straightened, eyes running over Dooku. And soon enough, his posture changed, perfect mimicry coming to him.

"Better," Dooku said.

"It is," Luke replied. "It's familiar. Like the form Yoda tried to show me."

Dooku barely stopped himself from lowering his lightsaber. He caught Luke's blow and turned it to the side, staring at him.

"Yoda," he breathed.

Luke gave him a quick smile, eyebrows quirking up. He took advantage of the distraction and all but wrenched Dooku's lightsaber from his hands as he parried the blow. He scowled at himself and immediately retaliated, forcing Luke to scamper backwards across the hangar floor as he defended himself.

"So you've heard of him, then?" Luke said, voice slightly strained by the effort as he deflected another thrust.

"Indeed. Yoda was my Master."

"I guess we have that in common."

Luke grunted as he pushed Dooku's blade away with his own. Dooku circled him, once more taking note of the boy's form and stance. There was so much wrong with it. He'd certainly not been trained in the Temple and if it was at Yoda's side, only for a short time.

And yet Dooku did see the mark of Yoda's tutelage on him. He held himself apart from the fight. It wasn't that he did not fully engage, but rather that there was a calm calculation in each of his moves. It was quite admirable.

Dooku had never expected the like from a Skywalker.

Luke flipped his lightsaber hilt over his hand as he waited for Dooku's next strike; Dooku smiled.

"By the tradition of the Jedi, we are family – twice over."

He watched the boy, curious for his reaction. In his time, of course, Yoda's lineage was quite something to be a part of. Though all the younglings trained under him, it was quite rare for him to select a Padawan. He'd not trained one personally for over a hundred years before he chose Dooku. It was distinguished company to be in, though Luke seemed to have his father's disappointing obliviousness to that fact.

"Explains how we ended up like this," Luke quipped.

"You fight your family frequently?" Dooku asked. Luke was intriguing him more and more. He felt in the Force for where Leia had gone. She had her blaster leveled at him, but Luke's words provoked no reaction. It was not she whom Luke had fought. Dooku cracked a thin smile at Luke as he perceived the truth. "You do not get along with your father."

The Force snapped around Leia. Oh my, that certainly was interesting.

"That's one way of putting it," Han grumbled.

"It's a little more complicated than that, but thanks for trying," Luke said.

Dooku's smile grew.

"Excellent."

He gave up all pretense of sparring with Luke, gathering what he could of the Dark Side around him. He could feel the power in his bones as he pushed out with one hand, knocking Luke to the floor. Leia moved to defend him, as expected, and Dooku raised both of his hands.

The Dark Side seethed around him, hungry for a channel, and he hollowed himself to better be its vessel – it flowed through him just as the Light once had, but as violence alone. Lightning sparked through the air, crashing down onto Leia.

She fell with a sharp cry.

"You son of –"

Han's blasterfire covered the rest of his words, but Dooku saw his mouth keep moving for an admirable amount of time. He switched back to his lightsaber, easing up on the Force lightning to deflect the shots. One caught Han in the shoulder and he shouted in pain, tossing his blaster to his off hand to keep shooting.

Dooku shrugged lightly at the man and angled his lightsaber so that the first of Han's shots impacted directly in front of Leia. She jolted out of the pained position she'd curled herself into, glaring up at him venomously.

"Han!" she snapped. The man cast a wary, worried glance down at her and then nodded. He kicked her blaster back over to her – and the Force carried it the rest of the way, seeing it sail into her hand. "Keep firing!"

Not her, Dooku decided. He was not interested in spending any more time in her company than necessary. He deflected the shots easily, holding his forearm against his back as he moved through his paces. It was a demonstration for Luke as much as anything.

"Leia, that's enough," Luke called. "I thought you were fighting me, Count Dooku. Don't you want to settle this?"

Dooku considered for a moment before closing down his lightsaber. He bowed to Han and Leia, and a bolt blazed just above his ear for his trouble.

"You have much of your father in you," Dooku said to Leia. Her jaw dropped, anger in her eyes. His point was more than proven. He turned back to Luke, gaze measuring as he looked over the boy. "You as well… although, I must say, already I prefer you to him."

Luke had his green lightsaber up in front of him in a two handed grip.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," Dooku assured him. "However, I tire of this game."

Luke straightened and shot a sidelong glance toward Leia.

"Are you surrendering?"

Leia was already shaking her head, mouthing the word, "No."

Dooku felt he had nothing to add to that. He clipped his lightsaber back to his belt before flinging out one hand, not to push, but instead to pull the great, smoking husk of his burned out ship toward him. Metal screeched against ferrocrete, throwing up white sparks as the ship skidded forward. The sails broke off entirely. One fell to the floor, golden material flapping like a banner, while the master of the other shattered into metallic splinters, cast out high over the heads of the foolish techs still in the hangar. Dooku heard the distinct, appalled cry of a protocol droid as it cringed away from the debris.

"What are you doing?" Luke shouted. He'd hurriedly turned off his own blade and thrown two hands in front of him, feet planted to push back against what Dooku was doing.

Leia scrambled to her feet and shoved Han behind her, lending what she could of her power to Luke's, face screwed up in concentration. Dooku clenched his fist, tugging the ship forward with one final, harsh jerk to send it end over end, tumbling forward before the twins caught it.

The ship balanced on its nose, tail end nearly scraping the high ceiling above.

Han was wide eyed and pale, looking between Luke and Leia – the former serene, despite his gritted teeth, and the latter sweating and swearing as she fought to help.

"The Force is strong with you," Dooku murmured.

And then he reached out to strike Luke on the back of the head.

"No, Luke!" Leia's eyes flew open. The ship wobbled under her uncertain control. "No! I can't do this alone!"

Dooku stooped to pick up Luke. There was a freighter on the other side of the hangar. It seemed adequate to his purposes, the kind of workhorse that could survive a trip through the rift. And, importantly, he'd not blocked its path out with the wreck of the solarsailer.

He gave Leia one careless glance as he carried the boy toward the ship. Sweat trickled down her face, making a track in the dust kicked up by the ship. Determination made her expression hard, but her power remained scattered and unfocused, just barely out of her straining grasp.

"That is none of my concern, my dear."


	11. Chapter 11

Chewie roared in outrage and Han ripped his gaze away from Leia to watch his first mate descend the gangplank of the Falcon just as Dooku attempted to board.

It was enough to jolt Han back into action. He spared a look back at Leia, grimacing at the strain on her face as she tried to keep the toppled wreck of Dooku's ship from falling, and snatched up his blaster once more. Chewie howled as he swatted at Dooku, only to be tossed aside by an indifferent flick of his fingers.

"Chewie!" Han shouted. He squeezed off three shots in quick succession, zinging past Dooku's hair. Luke, slung over his shoulder, did not stir at the near miss. "Hey, get back here, you scum sucking Imperial piece of trash!"

Dooku paused.

"Imperial?"

Han shrugged off the question. Yeah, yeah, he was from the past, so he wasn't actual Imperial trash, but sometimes his mouth just did the work without his brain bothering to help out and things came out.

"Interesting," Dooku said, musing to himself. He turned at the base of the gangplank. "Even you have been a great help to me. But I will brook no more interference."

He held up one hand, palm out and sent Han flying off his feet. He landed hard, head against the ferrocrete deck. Han's vision blurred as he tried to lift his head, to focus on the retracting gangplank. Groaning in pain, he propped his blaster on the hangar floor, angled as well as he could get it.

"Sorry, baby," he muttered, firing directly at the Falcon as her engines flared.

It made little difference. Han swore and levered himself to sit as he watched Dooku pilot the Falcon out of the bay. Chewie howled and shots from his bowcaster flashed across the hangar to Han.

"Let it go, buddy," he said. He grunted as he pushed himself back to his feet, hands held out against dizziness that didn't come. He looked to Chewie where he was growling and waving his arms. "I know, I know. We'll get 'em both back. We will."

Chewie gave an extend howl of anguish. Han couldn't dispute it. Instead, he walked to his friend, scratching at his side to give what comfort he could.

"Han!" Leia snapped from the other side of the hangar.

Chewie's eyes widened and he looked to Han, growling out a long question.

"Hey, it's complicated. Come on, we need to –" He broke off, running his hand through his hair. He had no idea what he would even be able to do. He shook his head and continued anyway, "We gotta help Leia."

He only wished he knew how. He shared a look with Chewie, fear just as plain on his friend's face as he knew it was on his – except, you know, hidden behind all that fur. Lucky Wookiee.

Han walked his way back over to Leia, cautious for all that he knew she needed him. The few remaining hangar techs, frozen by the abortive firefight, poked their heads out from their hiding places. Han resisted the urge to yell at them for all the help they'd given. Instead, he just glared. Chewie waved his arms as he told them to get the hell out of the hangar while they still could. No one else spoke Shyriiwook, that Han knew of, but they still managed to get the gist.

And hell, it wasn't that he didn't believe in Leia, but he'd run too if it was an option for him.

"Oh my," Threepio said. The droid was standing all but in the center of the hangar, leaning backwards with the little flexibility he had to peer up at the broken solarsailer balanced on its nose. He turned to totter after Han. "If I may, Captain Solo –"

"If you _wouldn't_ ," Han started, turning on the droid. He shoved a finger in Threepio's face, baring his teeth in a wide, angry smile. "I'd appreciate it."

Artoo beeped something. Han presumed it was supportive and brushed past them both to stand at Leia's side.

She grunted as she held the ship upright, feet braced on the floor and hands pushing against the air. Her jaw was tight, nostrils flaring with each harsh, in-taken breath. He could already see the sweat trickling from her hairline down her neck.

Han turned his gaze to the ship. It towered over them, scraping at the ceiling, several stories above them. He could see the red bleed of heat through the hull of the ship, still flexible and near molten from the process of reentry. He swallowed unhappily, looking at the unsteady mass.

He flicked his eyes over to Leia.

"Hey," he breathed out. "You can do this. Just, ah, concentrate?'

"Thanks," she said irritably. "I hadn't thought of that."

Han shrugged awkwardly. This Force stuff was beyond him and the one guy with a shot at figuring it out had just been clocked over the head by a cranky Sith Lord.

Artoo beeped again, more loudly.

Han furrowed his brow, looking between him and Threepio.

Somehow, and Han had no idea how, Threepio managed to look affronted.

"What?" Han demanded.

"If you would allow me to finish, Captain Solo," Han made a disgruntled sound, cursing softly, "I was saying I may know someone who could help."

Artoo twittered extensively and Chewie threw him a surprised look before nodding and growling his agreement. Han had only caught the Shyriiwook half and waited for Threepio's translation, foot tapping.

"I'm open to suggestions," Leia put in tensely.

Metal squealed as the solarsailer slipped against the deck and Leia gasped, pushing back hard and clamping her mouth shut to concentrate.

Threepio quieted his vocoder so as not to disturb her, "I would suggest Masters Anakin and Obi-Wan."

Han shot Threepio a dirty look. The droid's memory hadn't be restored since Vader hadn't quite had the time to get around to it, but learning he'd once belonged to the guy – kriff, that he'd been built by him – had been enough to make Han wary. Not that droids had loyalties, but you know, if they did, Threepio's might be as suspect as Artoo's. Possibly more so, since the little astromech hadn't been quiet about favoring Vader.

"Kinda figure they're busy, Goldenrod," Han said. He grimaced immediately and reached for his comlink. He didn't want to get squashed; wanted Leia to get squashed even less. He thumbed the comlink on and let out an unsteady, relieved breath when the line clicked from static to an open connection – he hadn't thought they'd jumped back home, not seriously, but the idea had occurred to him. "General Kenobi, come in."

"Skywalker here," Vader answered.

Of course.

Leia tensed at the sound of his voice, shoulders hunching, but it wasn't enough to break her hold in the Force.

Han held the comlink up to his mouth as he stepped closer to Leia. His eyes had moved from the towering solarsailer to her, her face. She was what was important here.

"Got a problem down here."

"Alright," Vader said, elongating his vowels. He sounded impatient and bemused. Han could almost hear the ring of Luke's own voice underlying his.

"It's a Force thing," Han hedged.

"I guessed," Vader replied drily.

Han didn't know how to ask. Hell, even if he knew what it was Leia actually needed to do, he still wouldn't know how to ask her Sith Lord father's advice. He paused to reflect that it was a good thing the man would be going home well before customs of proposal and marriage could come up.

Thankfully, Leia had never been shy.

"I need a crash course in levitation," she said without moving her head. She changed up her footing, hands pushed forward as if she bore the weight of the ship physically. Her brow was furrowed, mouth pressed warped into a near snarl. "How do I move something really, really big?"

Vader took a moment to respond.

"… the same way you move anything else."

Han didn't appreciate the blank confusion in his voice. He suspected Leia didn't either.

"Look, no one here went to Jedi school – you kinda wrecked that for everyone," Han snapped. "So how about a walk through of the basics?"

"You're right." Han stared at the comlink and then put one finger in his ear, trying to clear it out. "Leia, we're too far away from each other for a proper Force link –"

"Thank the Force," she muttered.

"—but if I reach out to you, I think I can show you what it's supposed to feel like in the Force. But you have to drop your shields."

Leia let out a shuddering breath.

"I don't have shields."

Vader actually chuckled.

"You have the strongest natural shields I've ever seen, and what Luke has taught you only reinforced them. Leia, I couldn't break through them if I tried, especially not now. I need you to trust me."

She clenched her jaw and Han couldn't help but reach out, hand on her back to steady her.

"Not forever, sweetheart. Just in this one thing," he told her, and she nodded stiffly.

"Alright. What do I do?"

"What you are doing," Vader replied promptly. Leia gritted her teeth and flexed her hands before consciously relaxing. Han restrained the urge to argue with Vader: he'd gotten enough Force mumbo jumbo from Luke over the years to know that provoking someone, say, a Skywalker with a hair trigger temper – so, all of them – wasn't actually the best way to maintain Jedi calm. "Leia, there is no difference. Everything you are already doing is enough. You are already enough.

"There is no secret to the Force because it is just you and your thoughts, your focus. It's complete within you."

Han rolled his eyes. That kind of patter was anything but soothing, given the source, and yet Leia took in a deep, steady breath, straightening with fluid strength as she listened to her father.

"The Force is always with you, Leia. It listens."

"Maybe it does – but the ship is really, really big," she replied. There was an edge of strain in her voice, but only that. Her eyes were locked on the solarsailer, her hands no longer bent into claws that tried to dig into the hull, but gentled palms that it seemed to rest on.

"It is not," Vader contradicted sternly. "The Force is infinite and yours to command. It is just a _ship_."

"Well, when you put it that way," Han muttered. He rubbed at the back of his neck, wishing there was anything at all he could do that would help.

Leia gave a shuddering exhalation and closed her eyes.

"It's mine to command," she repeated to herself.

Han felt a smile pull at the corner of his mouth. There was the Jedi way – the Jedi in her as she trusted something so much grander than herself – and then there was this: the ease of assuming control, of taking command. It seemed it was something she and her father had in common.

And, of course, neither of them would stand for getting crushed by a spaceship. Put that way, it seemed pretty obvious that Leia would be able to put the sailer in its place.

Leia did not wear the serene and distant expression Luke would have. Instead, her brow remained furrowed. Behind closed lids, Han could easily envision the steely glare that pinned the solarsailer in place as it stopped its groaning, shuddering motions. It stood perfectly still within Leia's grasp, as if rooted to the hangar floor, before she gently eased it down to rest on its side.

It was over as quickly as that. Han blinked rapidly in surprise and then, before Leia opened her eyes, made sure to close his gaping mouth.

She reached out to take his hand, smiling with grim satisfaction.

"Thank you," she said. Han raised his eyebrows, one hand gesturing to himself, but she concluded into the open comm, "That was exactly what I needed to hear, Father."

There was a quickly stifled sound on the other end of the comm – not Vader. If Han had to hazard a guess, the gasp had come from his little apprentice. Han had largely ignored her, just as he knew Leia had. Somehow the idea of a loyal and loving child in Vader's custody was even more uncomfortable than a loyal and loving wife. Too many shades of what could have been for Leia and Luke both. The Jedi they would have been raised to be, the culture they were locked out of, even the sister they would have had. It was too complete a picture.

Vader had the grace not to react to Leia calling him ‘father.’

“What’s your status?” he asked briskly.

Leia and Han shared a look. She held out her hand and Han was quick to put the comlink in it. Beyond the fact that he really wasn’t in charge around here, he didn’t want to break the news about Luke’s abduction. He immediately began casting around for a ship that was already prepped, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He dropped it when his eyes alighted on Chewie. Good man. He’d wrangled a tech and gotten a captured Lamda shuttle ready for takeoff.

“Dooku has Luke,” Leia said. She paused, waiting for yelling, and then moved on when it didn’t come. “I can still feel him in system. Either he wants us to chase him, or he just doesn’t know how to handle the Falcon.”

“Both,” Vader decided.

Han wasn’t sure whether to feel a puff of pride, or insulted at the idea his girl was hard to handle. She might not have had standard controls, but any pilot worth his salt should have been able to figure her out.

“Then we chase,” Han broke in impatiently. “And use the Falcon to our advantage. No one knows her like me, good and bad.”

Leia gave him a swift, mocking punch in the shoulder and he lifted his eyebrows at her. He wasn’t going to deny that it hurt to speak ill of his girl, but even he knew there were a few quirks that were less than useful in the heat of battle.

Leia covered the comlink briefly.

“You willing to shoot her down?” she asked.

Han gave her an offended look.

“It’s Luke.” He jerked his head toward the shuttle. “Now how about we get going and figure the rest of this out in the air?”

* * *

Luke came to with a muted groan, squinting into the harsh, orange light of the Coruscanti sunset reflecting off the speeders winding through the air traffic lanes.

“I had hoped you would return to your senses,” Dooku intoned from beside him. Luke shifted in his very familiar seat, casting a look at the man piloting the Millennium Falcon. He wore a tense and displeased expression, his mouth turned by something half way between a grimace and a sneer. “It seems you have inherited your father’s hearty constitution, in addition his lack of common sense.”

Luke touched cautiously at the back of his head.

“I actually hear that a lot,” he confessed. Well, not precisely that, but even in the days of the Rebellion when it seemed like every new pilot he met had an Anakin Skywalker story, he’d gotten an earful about how his recklessness had to be a direct inheritance from his father; they’d mostly meant it as a compliment.

Dooku merely narrowed his eyes in response, still looking out the forward viewport.

“So, did you just want company?” Luke asked, “Or were you hoping for something specific from me?”

In either case, Luke had a stirring speech about the virtues of not being on the Dark Side all prepped and ready.

“I was merely concerned that my Master’s prize would die precipitously, before I had a chance to present you to him.”

“Oh, that.” Luke paused. “You know my father is his prize, right?”

“You are means to lure Skywalker to the past. I am aware of that.”

“And then he’s going to kill you. Or have Anakin kill you. I wasn’t great in galactic history, so I don’t really know what happened there. But there are two Sith Lords at a time, right? Palpatine isn’t interested in keeping you both around.”

Dooku’s hands tightened on the controls and Luke ducked his head, peering upward out the viewport. They were nowhere near the rift. He was pretty sure Dooku could have taken them through well before he woke up, despite the way he did appear to struggle with the Falcon’s rather, ah, counter-intuitive set up.

“What do you get out of this?” Luke asked curiously.

"A position of readiness. My Master is a wise and powerful man – if overconfident."

Luke didn't disagree on that last point. What he knew of Palpatine was a decrepit, cackling old man whose ability to play the galaxy like a game had long ago fled him, leaving him vulnerable to his own hubris.

He frowned in thought. Dooku's words still didn't really explain his participation. From what he knew of the histories, Dooku had styled himself the idealistic leader of the Separatists. Prone to attempting to assassinate innocent, peace loving Senators – not that Luke had any bias there – but seeking political reform. While Luke got that the history was fractured and whitewashed, collusion with Palpatine still didn't really jibe for him.

"So, you're going to use me to take down Palpatine and then, what, take over the Republic?"

"And then I will end the Republic," Dooku said firmly. "And with it, these foolish so-called principles that lead only to corruption and patronage. Systems will be unfettered by arbitrary galactic regulation. We will embrace them as confederates if they ask, but hardly seek to rule them."

"What about the Jedi?" Luke prompted.

Dooku's eyes turned flinty.

"They will not suffer change. I fear they will not survive the new order."

"What if they didn't have to die?"

"My young friend, you may be more deluded than you father."

Luke sat forward in his seat, leaning forward. He was pleased to discover his head injury barely even made him want to pitch forward in a nauseous faint. Nonetheless, he split his focus just enough to beg a little energy from the Force, helping along the healing process.

"I'm sure I am. He's not the most optimistic guy in the galaxy," Luke said breezily. Possibly an understatement. "Me, however... But why not? Why not spare the Jedi?"

"Because the Jedi Order is blinkered and crippled by centuries of incorrect doctrine, led astray by their own fears, clouded by the Dark Side, and serving evil despite all their pretension of honor. They will fight to the last breath and welcome it because they value sacrifice over power."

"There can be power in sacrifice."

"And?" Dooku's lips curled in disdain.

He still hadn't taken Luke up into the rift; they could both sense the blaze of power that was Anakin Skywalker turning toward them. Whatever distraction had diverted him and everyone else on the Resolute, it was over. Simultaneously, Luke felt Leia's mind brush against his. He sent her a quick reassurance. He thought he was making headway.

A bright bubble in the Force floated back to him. Leia's laughter. Only he would try to go two for two with Sith Lords.

Luke shrugged mentally to her.

"What if you sacrificed everything to save the Jedi? Your power, your position, your freedom? What if you saved them, Count? You'd give them the chance to be what you believed in. What you still believe in now."

"I think not."

The reply was too quick. Not even thought upon.

Luke settled back in his chair, resting his sore head on what passed for a cushion. Like everything else, it was threadbare and smelled of Wookiee.

"Well, from where I'm sitting, the alternative is your death. That's what happened last time around."

* * *

"You can smile," Ahsoka told her Master.

Anakin had decided, somewhat gruesomely, that Grievous was a pretty good place to sit. He was perched on the cooled metal that coated the former general, one foot kicked out to brace against a permanently bent arm. He was currently gazing down at the comlink in his hand with an overly serious expression on his face. Han and Leia hadn't communicated since they boarded their own ship and his mind was obviously still on them. He straightened to attention before he realized exactly who it was talking to him.

Obi-Wan spared him a quick grin from where he discussed strategy with Rex, undoubtedly accompanied by a teasing jostle in the Force that Ahsoka couldn't feel. She ignored her own blindness and the hollow feeling the mere thought of it provoked. With any luck, that would soon be at an end. Instead, she propped a fist on her hip as she gave Anakin a look.

"You're not fooling anyone."

"I'm proud of her, Snips. That's all."

"And even if that didn't warrant a smile.... She called you her father."

Anakin ducked his head. His blue eyes were bright, his smile shyer than she'd ever seen from him. It made Ahsoka want to punch him, just to get things back to normal. They didn't normally do earnest. At least, not while looking at each other. Jedi style, staring off into the distance while circumlocuting the heart of the matter, was more typical of them.

Except, Ahsoka remembered, in the very beginning. It is by the will of the Force that you are at my side. She knew the future, his and her own. But it was still true.

"Maybe she'll be alright, after all," Ahsoka added.

"I always knew she would be."

Right, Ahsoka thought. He hadn't been worried sick about the anger he saw in her eyes, the fear that her father's legacy would always overshadow her own. He wasn't afraid of himself or the idea that all he'd leave his children was ruination. Nope, not at all.

The comlink crackled to life in Anakin's hand, drawing their attention. This time, however, it wasn't Leia. It was Padme.

"Anakin, come in."

"I'm here, Padme. What've you got?"

"The Admiral and I have been discussing the situation in the air." Ahsoka and Anakin exchanged displeased looks. He hadn't been too thrilled at Leia giving chase to Dooku, but had conceded that shooting the Falcon down in a dogfight was less likely to kill Luke than an orbital strike from a fully armed carrier. A capable gunner – and here he'd obviously meant himself – might be able to aim precisely enough to contain the situation, but it was an absurd risk to take when there were still other options. "There's something going on with the rift."

Oh.

Anakin jumped down from Grievous's flashwelded carapace. Obi-Wan quickly followed, on the scent of Anakin's distress, with Rex signaling to the other clones to form up.

"What kind of something?" Anakin asked. "Bad something?"

There was a long, considering silence on the other end of the line. Anakin took off at a run and Ahsoka had no real choice but to follow.

"It's not clear," Padme replied, voice tinny and ever more distant as Anakin's long legs ate up the distance to the elevator.

Anakin skidded to a halt at the bank of elevators and punched the button impatiently, and then three more times. It gave Ahsoka ample time to catch up. She cast a quick look behind her to where Obi-Wan and the boys were jogging up to their position, still discussing what options the Resolute had with Dooku. She tried not to pull a face, considering telling them to hold off. Anakin could probably handle talk of scrambling Etas to shoot Dooku down, even if he wasn’t piloting. Probably. Mostly it was just that she really didn’t want to be stuffed into an elevator with six fully grown men.

Obi-Wan cocked his head at her and she slouched sheepishly. Okay, that wasn’t a good reason to make them take the next one.

“What sensor data are you getting?” Anakin was demanding. “Just read it off to me.”

“General,” Yularen cut in sternly. “It’s not the readings, per se. It’s the appearance of the rift. It’s become … floopy.”

Anakin’s eyebrows went sky high and Ahsoka didn’t bother biting back her laugh.

“Floopy?”

“I see you are unfamiliar with Carida vernacular,” Yularen retorted haughtily. There was still a slight note of embarrassment that he couldn't quite cover. Anakin snorted softly, throwing an amused look Ahsoka’s way. He covered the comlink with his hand so Yularen wouldn't hear anything. “Regardless, you will have to see it for yourself.”

The comline went abruptly dead, only to turn back on a moment later. Padme’s irritated sigh was the first sound transmitted.

“Ani, I don’t know what this means, but I think we need to consider what our priorities are.”

Ahsoka didn’t like the sudden shift in her Master’s demeanor. He straightened, gaze hard and cold on the wall as he waited.

The elevator door snapped open and the group crowded inside. Ahsoka shifted uphappily on her feet, trying to find a little more space in the corner, as the lift accelerated rapidly toward the command bridge. Anakin, of course, didn’t bother with any sort of courtesy, one arm braced wide against the wall and elbow knocking into Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he lifted the comlink to his mouth.

“What do you mean by that?”

Padme spoke quickly, as if she were ripped off a bacta patch:

“We may not have time to help Luke.”

Everyone in the lift tensed.

“We have plenty of time. We’re time travelers! That’s how it works!”

“Ani, we knew we had a limited window before the rift closed,” she replied.

“We’re talking about minutes, Padme!” He curled his hand into a fist against the lift wall and banged it, making Ahsoka jump. She crossed her arms as she glared up at him and he glared back, unwilling to admit he was acting out. “We have enough time to save our son!”

Ahsoka heard Obi-Wan sigh, fingers pressed into his eyes. Oh boy, did she relate to that.

The lift arrived at the command bridge and Anakin charged out of it, cloak snapping behind him. Obi-Wan matched his stride to his former Padawan’s, almost certainly using a touch of the Force to keep that from looking as fully absurd as it ought to have. Together, they reached the bank of computers that Padme and Yularen were bent over. Ahsoka’s future self had hitched her hip up on the console, a speculative but unmoved expression on her face.

Ahsoka tried not to hate her. Really, she did. And yet it just somehow didn’t work. It wasn’t even the Force-blocking thing her future double created, though she couldn’t say that losing her Forcebond to her Master was big fun – or, apparently, the sensation of what the Force in balance what supposed to be. Ahsoka just didn’t like her attitude. It was so … so –

She floundered for the right word. So infuriatingly detached.

And yeah, she got that as a Jedi detachment was supposed to be her thing. But she did care, deeply. It was horrible envisioning herself in the future, realizing that someday she would just give up on herself and the Jedi as a whole.

The wire frame model of the rift was projected just to the left of other Ahsoka’s hand, a running log of data streaming vertically next to it. Ahsoka looked away from the holo, out the forward port, watching the rift itself as it fluctuated. It was definitely smaller than she remembered. It had contracted in the time it took to put Grievous, finally, to rest.

"Leia, come in," Anakin was saying. He was hunched over the console, glaring down at it. Padme and Obi-Wan shared an exasperated look behind his back. "What's your status?"

Yularen cleared his throat and gestured the computer across from Anakin, where the Resolute had patched into city traffic droids to monitor Leia and Han's pursuit of Dooku. Below, in flashing red numerals, a target lock shivered and shuddered through large jumps in coordinates. In compensation for the constantly shifting position of their target, the gunnery system was set for wide dispersal, Ahsoka noted in alarm. If they fired, it would take out half a city block – all the way down to the ground levels.

It's really not up to us, Ahsoka thought, heart sinking. Even if Anakin ran to the hangar now and got into his own starfighter.

"We're a bit busy!" Leia said tightly.

The comlink fuzzed out and Yularen pulled a face, thought plain on his face: Skywalkers.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan put in. He'd come to stand unusually close to Anakin, one hand on his back. Wary, rather than soothing, but it was still enough of a surprise to see him touching Anakin, especially when no one was even near death, that Ahsoka did a doubletake. "I'm afraid that Luke and Leia's fate will be of their determination. We have to decide our own."

Anakin made a growling sound. His fist clenched and he pressed his knuckles to the console, leaning away from Obi-Wan's touch, provoking the older man to move closer still, hand going to the back of Anakin's neck.

Well, hadn't this trip just been a blast for everyone, Ahsoka thought, processing implications she wasn't sure she knew how to deal with.

"Give the order then," Anakin ground out.

"You know I won't."

Ahsoka's eyes flicked away, looking to Padme, before she half turned to take in everyone else on board. Yularen looked deeply aggrieved by the proceedings, but no more likely to speak up than Rex or Ahsoka's alter.

"Oh, come on! No one's going to make a decision?" Ahsoka groused. She flung a hand toward the port, where the rift seemed to grow ever smaller. "If we're taking a vote, put me down for going back home. No offense, Skyguy."

Anakin looked up at her just long enough to give a tight, unhappy nod. Ahsoka felt her stomach twist unpleasantly at his expression. It wasn't – she wanted to save Luke. But she wanted to go home too, and she'd heard more than enough about Anakin's kids to have the feeling that they really could take care of themselves. She knew what she had done in the face of losing Anakin to the Dark Side and watching her people get murdered. Luke and Leia had certainly fared a hell of a lot better than future Ahsoka, as far as she was concerned.

"What about you, Padme?"

"I'm not voting," Padme said calmly. Obi-Wan for a moment looked like he had a pithy comment about votes and Senators, but Ahsoka supposed the old ghost's influence was enough to make him keep his tongue. Padme's eyes were luminous with sympathy, shining through her political composure. "I'll just remind you of what awaits you in the past. Of Alderaan. Of the fact that this is the one chance we have to make things right and that you were the one, from the first moment we arrived, who wanted so badly to return. And that you wanted to do that so you could help people."

Anakin closed his eyes against her words.

"He's our son, Padme."

"And he survived twenty five years without us." Ahsoka winced at the harshness. Padme pressed her lips together, joining Obi-Wan at Anakin's side. They shared a look and Ahsoka decided she was glad not to have the Force right now after all, because she didn't need to sense whatever was going on there, no matter the curiosity sparking in her. Padme put her hand to Anakin's face, holding his jaw. "Do you really want that to happen again?"

"If we go back," Anakin said, exhaling unsteadily.

"If we go back, we stop all of this."

Anakin grimaced. He looked boxed in, both by them physically and by their logic. And yet Ahsoka knew her obstinate Master. He still wanted to fight.

Or more accurately, he still wanted a way out. One of the problems of being the Hero with No Fear, Ahsoka had learned, was that he rarely had to confront reality. There was always a third way, a last minute dodge, or a miracle he could pull from up his sleeve to save the day.

Maybe that's what Vader was, she thought. His last try to have it both ways. And when that day came, he would destroy everything he was trying to save.

Anakin's head jerked to the side, away from Padme's touch, and he met Ahsoka's eyes unexpectedly. For all that she couldn't sense him, he was still bonded to her. He'd clearly heard that thought. All Ahsoka could do was shrug uncomfortably. Not like she could take it back.

"Master, just tell me what to do," Anakin said. He sounded nothing like the commander of the 501st in that moment.

"I won't have you resent me for deciding for you," Obi-Wan said firmly. He withdrew his hand from Anakin and stepped around him, standing next to Padme as a unified front. His voice was gentle as he continued, "But I know who you can be."

Anakin's expression darkened and Obi-Wan quickly reached out to smack him upside the head.

"Not him, you insufferable –" He cut himself off with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Anakin, I know your best self and he is back there."

Anakin sagged, gripping the console to hold himself up. He scuffed his toe into the deck plate and nodded wordlessly, unhappy but decisive. Knowing him, there would be little changing his mind now.

Which, Ahsoka thought, was a good thing. If he was committed to absolutely make it worthwhile to go back to the past, there was less chance of him falling.

When he looked up, there was clarity and determination in his eyes.

"You're right. We should go back. Admiral Yularen?"

"Finally," Yularen muttered. He turned to his conn officer immediately, "All ahead full! And brace for turbulence."

"Especially you three," Padme said, eyeing her Jedi. The other Ahsoka slipped from the console she'd been half sitting on, fists planted on her hips as she gave Padme a look, and Padme amended, "You four."

"Here's hoping it's all on you this time around," Ahsoka told her future self.

The adult Ahsoka smiled.

"I'd honestly prefer that."

She looked confident and eager, brash and self-assured in the face of the Force only knew what. Ahsoka would have admired her, if she weren't so kriffing jealous. She certainly didn't know what would happen, going back with her double in tow. If the Force would transfer back to her, or if some whacky mind-melding stuff would happen. The rift, as far as she remembered it, wasn't any kind of fun at all.

"Intercept!" Han's voice said, abruptly breaking into the buzzing efficiency of the Resolute's bridge crew calling coordinates and energy levels while they maneuvered. "Do you have an intercept?"

“Relay your coordinates, Captain Solo,” Yularen replied calmly, ignoring the sudden scramble around him, as officers rushed to bring tracking back online. Their focus had been diverted by, first and foremost, Anakin Skywalker, and secondly by setting a course into the rift.

“We’re right on top of you,” Han snarled.

Yularen raised his eyebrows at that. One officer took a peek up at the ceiling of the Resolute, against all sense.

Ahsoka sidled over to Rex.

“What does he think we’re going to do?” she asked in a hush. “Ram Dooku?”

Even if they did, the Resolute wasn’t up to speed and Dooku was surely zipping along much faster in the Falcon. It would amount to a minor fender bender – and one that would actually knock Dooku and Luke into the rift. Pretty sure that wasn’t Solo’s aim, but Ahsoka boggled at the situation they’d suddenly been thrust into.

“Can’t say I’ve a clue, Commander. I don’t think anyone has a lock and at this range …” Rex trailed off.

Right. They could always try the forward guns. And blow the Falcon into tiny, itty bitty pieces.

Ahsoka sighed and looked back to Anakin, who had managed to get a fix on the Falcon as it dodged and whirled through the space just between the Resolute and its own shields, trailed by a dot she presumed to be Han’s ship. He wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the holo, however, having pried off the forward panel of the console and climbed up into the computer housing to rewire the Force only knew what.

It didn’t take Yularen long to notice.

“General Skywalker, you will cease tearing apart my bridge this instant!”

“Admiral, I gotta say – no. I won’t.”

Yularen gritted his teeth, looking to Obi-Wan to get his partner in order.

“Anakin, if you would explain, perhaps the Admiral would be more sympathetic.”

“I’m trying,” he interrupted himself with a grunt as he pulled something loose and then shoved it somewhere new, “to patch into the central gunnery system and override localized control.”

Obi-Wan winced. He was trying to give himself a gun so he could shoot Dooku down personally, despite the fact that they had tried very, very hard not to fire at the Falcon.

Ahsoka watched the Falcon race toward the aft of the Resolute, only to get chased back up its length. This time, it wasn’t breaking off. It wasn’t turning to trace the belly of the ship, it wasn’t breaking to loop back. It was flying inexorably to the rift, followed by Han and Leia.

Padme tugged on the edge Anakin’s tunic, eyes wide as she stared at exactly the same holo Ahsoka was watching, just as cognizant as she of what was unfolding.

“Ani. I don’t think that’s necessary.”

His frantic attempt to rewire stilled. He sensed the change in the room and ducked inelegantly out from the hole he’s wrenched into the wall. His hands were braced above him as he watched two tiny dots speed directly into the rift, images shimmered out.

“No,” Anakin said hoarsely.

Ahsoka jerked. She couldn’t feel anything. It was like nothing had happened.

Stunned, she turned to the viewport, frantically searching for any sign of the ships. The rift pulsed, but seemed barely changed otherwise. And then it contracted, shrinking down to hardly more than a hair-breadth against the black of space.

“Admiral,” Obi-Wan put in calmly. Yularen gave him a nonplussed look, to which Obi-Wan smiled genially. “I believe you gave orders.”

Yularen straightened.

“Yes. Back to your stations,” he snapped. “All ahead full.”

* * *

Palpatine rose from his desk, bidden by the Force, moments before his comm buzzed behind him. He angled his head, focus still directed to the rent in the sky above, and gestured with one hand. He did not typically use the Force in his office. He'd become a man of habit – the truest way to protect oneself – and breaking from his decade long imposition of Forceless living was a recipe for disaster.

Except, a smile perked the corners of his mouth, his time was at hand. He could feel his imminent victory. In such circumstances, a little self indulgence was permissible.

"Speak," he commanded idly.

"Chancellor." The voice on the other end of the comm was Wilhuff Tarkin. Palpatine smiled fully, gaze still directed out his window, back to the holocam. He straightened his shoulders, satisfied that his instincts were once more inerrant. "You assigned me to monitor the spatial rift some months ago."

Palpatine clasped his hands behind his back.

"Indeed. I recall that. Is there some change?"

"Substantial ones. I believe, as do my experts, that something may be coming through."

It would be odd not to react.

Palpatine turned quickly, miming surprise for the Captain.

"Coming through – do you think it could be Skywalker?" he asked. He was careful to modulate his excitement. The state of the war was quite dire, despite the loss of Dooku months ago, and the hope offered by the Hero With No Fear would hardly be something any Republic loyalist would sniff at. But he didn't dare reveal just how much he anticipated Anakin's return. He sighed, passing a hand over his face. "No, I suppose you wouldn't be able to tell yet."

Tarkin's pinched expression relaxed slightly.

"Just so, sir. Best not to get one's hopes up."

Palpatine nodded, meeting the man's eyes in the holo. Tarkin was not a difficult man to read, though he was quite self-controlled. He did not value the Jedi, on the whole, making him ideal to lead the Navy into a new era. In general, he did not actually consider individuals to be particular resources. Some men and women were better suited to certain jobs, true, but replacements were always available.

Skywalker, should have been replaceable. And yet, in the past months, through a vicious war of attrition, the entire Republic had been made to see how entirely vital he was. How thoroughly useless other Jedi were.

They should have won a dozen times over by now. The Separatist front should have collapsed. But the power vacuum left by Dooku and Grievous had simply be filled by others, hand picked by Palpatine, while the Republic's tenuous hold on planets like Malastare and Ryloth fell to pieces and troublemakers like Death Watch distracted the Jedi from properly pursuing the war. He'd been quite busy, stirring the pot in Dooku's absence. And if his apprentice had failed in his part –

Well, no point to negative thinking. He'd surely find adequate punishment if that was the case.

"Please inform me as soon as you know for sure, Captain Tarkin," Palpatine said pleasantly. "And if it is Anakin, I should like to greet him when he lands."

Tarkin nodded.

"Of course, sir."

The holo blinked out.

Palpatine could feel the temporal rift as his back, but fought its distraction, gracefully sitting once more at his desk. He folded his hands, listening to its powerful noise in the Force.

It was unfortunate that he could not ask Tarkin precisely what the time dilation effect was on transit through the rift. If Dooku had fulfilled his mission and captured someone of note to Anakin – his dear wife, perhaps – then Anakin would give chase. Estimating how much time they had to prepare before Anakin arrived would be useful, particularly if it ranged into weeks rather than hours. But it would be rather suspicious if Palpatine were to ask Tarkin that kind of question, so he was left only to search his own feelings and impeccable prescience.

Not weeks. He knew that with sudden, electrifying surety.

Palpatine reached out, this time with a hand, and keyed the holocomm code to the Jedi Temple.

"Master Yoda!" he greeted happily when the Jedi Master appeared.

"Chancellor," Yoda said, ears quivering as he inclined his head.

"I heard about the Battle of Mon Cal," Palpatine said. He pursed his lips, eyes wide with sympathy. "Such a tragedy."

"Many losses, we had. Recover, however, the Jedi will." Yoda paused, old and canny eyes on Palpatine's face. "But I sense another purpose. Only to convey your sympathies, you did not call."

Palpatine gave a slight shrug.

"Very astute. I am a politician."

"Noticed, I did."

"And you are not. So, I trust that you do no give the war political considerations. But Master Yoda, it is quite grave. We are losing – and the public knows it."

Yoda's ears drooped.

"Subject of the Council's recent discussions, this is."

Palpatine repressed a smile. Ostensibly, Jedi did not track opinion polling. In reality, of course, they were extremely worried by the mounting numbers who protested on their doorsteps and their tanking approval ratings. He would have liked somewhat more time to work them down before Dooku arrived, before Anakin secured his position as the galaxy's only worthy Jedi, but he could handle moving his plans up slightly. He was flexible.

"On that subject, I had an idea," he said. He leaned forward in his seat. "I thought perhaps we could seek to shore up the confidence of the citizens in our Republic by working together. I know the Jedi enjoy their privacy, but opening up the Temple may allay some fears."

Yoda did not seem moved.

"A holo opp, you suggest?" he said dubiously.

Palpatine smiled innocently.

"For your Jedi as well as I. You needn't show any part of the Temple that is sacrosanct, nor reveal any confidential information. Just show the brave people that Jedi are – why, we could even visit the younglings! What better than to show the hope of tomorrow?"

Yoda mulled it over.

"Discuss this with the Council, I must."

"Of course. Simply inform me of the best time," Palpatine told him, as if agreement was already secured, before clicking the button to sever the connection.

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

Yes, the younglings. Who better to surround himself with for Anakin's imminent return? The boy did have a temper, after all, and clearly knew too much. Palpatine always did like to have a backup plan.


End file.
